Defying Gravity
by Kaeru Shisho
Summary: A multi part story of romance starting with a turning point vacation, developing throughout a dangerous UC mission, and moving ahead through the unexpected challenges of a summer vacation. YAOI Part 3 conclusion. Part 4 is WIP
1. It's a Vacation Chapter 1

**DEFYING GRAVITY**

**A Romance in Three Parts**

**Part One: It's a Vacation**

**Part Two: It's Back to Work**

**Part Three: It's Another Vacation **

Gravity is a law of nature. It holds you to the Earth.

Grounding you.

As a kid, a grounding could restrict me to a certain place as a punishment.

As a pilot, a grounding could prevent me from flying.

And as an civilian, I never wanted to be your average, well-grounded guy.

All my life, I have struggled against that force and laughed in the face of laws

that compel me to follow them.

Challenging, disobeying, treating with contempt,

Duo Maxwell,  
Defying Gravity.

* * *

**DEFYING GRAVITY**

**Part One:** **It's a Vacation**

**Chapter One**

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Gundam Wing or its characters, nor do I make any monetary profit off this story.  
Warnings: 1x2x1, 3x4x3, AU, yaoi, some language  
--Kaeru Shisho 5/1/2007 14:44

* * *

"Just forget it, 'Fei!" 

I knew he hated the nickname, but at the moment anything to get someone else riled up and take the heat off me was what I was after. I was just having a little more trouble than usual shaking off the pressures of the last infiltration job, that's all. I'd be fine in no time.

He didn't take the bait and yell back. He just kept that cool reserve of his in place.

"I will when you stop talking about it."

Which I couldn't. I didn't take to embarrassment well, and I was still running on adrenalin from my last job, not from the 'incident' I had just barely walked away from with my ego intact.

"Well, I have," I insisted, and it seemed my friend had clammed up, too. "Only," I continued, relentlessly pursuing persecution, "even though your mouth's not moving, I can hear you clear as a bell."

Yep, I refused to give it up until I got it out of my system, whatever the "it" part was. I slammed the loaf of bread onto the breadboard, rattling the board, but not my friend.

"I will leave the fowl on the counter," he said.

Wufei unloaded the groceries as quietly as I did loudly. He was ready to move on and forget the entire episode, but I wasn't. It had been a stupid, knee-jerk reaction. I knew that then as I do now. If I hadn't just been coming off that long, hard assignment, I would have reacted better. As it was, Wufei had protected me from some damned unprofessional behavior. It's not like I went out of my way to beat up on guys checking me out. But… I mean, one thing I learned growing up on the streets was that guys that looked at guys _that way_ were asking for a beating, and guys that liked it were dead meat. Guys had to be tough, and there was nothing tougher than Gundam pilots, even retired ones.

"What if I'd hurt him seriously? Think my Preventer's badge would have saved me from being slapped with an 'unwarranted assault and battery' charge?"

"But you didn't."

"Because you stopped me!"

Would my mouth ever stop yapping? I was aware of my tendency to talk too much. It was a way to cope. It was a way for a kid to deal with the ravages of war where the friendly fire was as dangerous as the enemy. And, ah, my fellow ex-Gundam pilots were most of that 'friend' part during the war, and they were my four best friends now.

Yeah, the war was over and we were no longer pilots. That had taken some adjustment. Quatre had his family business to return him to the real world of peace, but passed it up to join the rest of us. The Preventer's peacekeeping agency sucked us up like the vacuum of space, gave us a job, a purpose, and a roof over our heads, while remolding us into something the public could accept. I mean, we were only eighteen, a mature eighteen, but not ready to find that special person and start shacking up on our own yet. Still, the demanding job rarely pushed us like our war time work had, so we all worked out, ran, and engaged in sports to keep our adrenaline pumping. It also kept our young bodies toned and conditioned- and looking good.

Healthy body, healthy mind. Sounds swell, but for us it wasn't automatic. Life was all about adjustments, calm, reasonable, non-explosive, life-affirming ones, and if we weren't careful we could appear crazy to outsiders. I kept it light most of the time. You know, laughing it off.

"It's just not your lucky day," he told me. As if that was any excuse.

Or I could just lose it. That's worked too, but not as well. Okay, normally I'm a pretty rational guy, if not a bit cocky. "Cock sure" I've heard, although, usually followed by a rude comment about my anatomy. Not sensitive about that. No, sir. I may be short, but not in the department where it counts, and the guys all know it.

"There is no luck, just bad karma," I snapped.

Wufei was avoiding my verbal attacks as deftly as my fists when we physically sparred.

"You would have stopped yourself. I only wanted to accelerate the process. How are you planning to prepare this chicken?"

"Ah…" I was nearly caught off guard by his change of topics, but I made the adroit turnabout without skipping more than a beat or two. "Dust with flour, salt, pepper, roast on a rack for an hour at 350 degrees."

I could brood over my stupid conduct, rattle off a recipe, and wash my hands at the same time. I was a master of multiprocessing. I also could have set a dozen charges, changed the oil in the car, and read a book. Busy hands keep the mind occupied and mostly sane. No one minded this personality trait. I wish all my war skills were as terrific to live with. With habits born out of survival instincts, I still automatically scanned rooms on entering any building- doing surveillance, checking out enemy positions. _This was while stepping inside an ordinary, damned grocery store in our mountaintop resort_, _Maxwell!_

I had to laugh at my own _idiosyncrasies_, a word that sounded like a cross between "idiocy" and "crazy." A very apt description, as my bud, Quatre (pronounced 'Catter' by me and something soft and gooey 'Caaaah-trugh' by his friend Trowa Barton) would tell me.

"Moronic behavior," would be said Trowa's terminology for describing me. Yeah, right on target, Tro-baby. Wufei would say I had "peculiar quirks." Well, didn't we all?

Heero, he never said shit about me. I think the least said the better was his attitude, as in: "if you can't say something nice, don't say nothing at all." Thanks, Thumper, for the childhood philosophy lesson. I got more of those from reading to the younger kids in the orphanage. I was smart and learned fast. Still like to read, too.

See, today was the start of our annual vacation with the gang of five, our retreat, just to put it into perspective. With me getting off a deep undercover operation, things were a bit touch-and-go until I made the adjustment to the real world. Of course, I wasn't the only one with adjustment problems, not by a long shot. Heero did perimeter checks- all the time, everywhere! I'm sure Trowa had placed security alarms around the cabin; Quatre probably had his devoted Arab strongmen holed up in neighboring cabins; and that one exceptionally heavy duffle bag Wufei hauled in wasn't filled with just books and clothes, I'd bet my hat on it. But today, I nearly lost it and hurt someone.

Right now, Wufei's beady, black eyes were drilling a hole in my head. He nodded curtly, a gesture of approval. "Your recipe sounds simple and error proof."

"Is that an intentional jab at my creative cooking?"

His eyes blinked then narrowed. "That was praise for your _modus operandi_, considering I picked out the components for the meal."

Oh, yeah. Damn. I had left him to do that, when we'd agreed I would help. Another screw up. See, he and I had set out on what should have been just a straightforward supply mission- that was all it was. Purchase provisions for a couple meals. Wufei had pointed out that since I had drawn the short straw, I was preparing lunch, which meant I would participate in the shopping. His was shorter still, so his fate was to accompany me. I think it was rigged from the start.

I let Wufei take point into the grocery store, while I observed. Three employees, one coming out of the back cooler with a rack of milk cartons, one at the cash register, one stocking the chips. Four customers, or six, counting Fei and me. Possibly more hidden.

Wufei pulled out his list, not that he needed one with his sharp memory. "Just as I thought. Heero added some things last night. Tea." He elbowed me, jostling me out of my headcount. "Why don't you choose the beer and I'll meet you at the meat counter?"

"'Kay," I said, flashing him a smile as he floated swan-like down an aisle.

I stalked away with a damned jaunty air. For some reason he considered me the beer connoisseur. It wasn't that I drank that much; in fact, I rarely did, and never on assignment, but this was a holiday and that meant stretching the boundaries that limited our lives. Yeah, right, a holiday. I was not on a mission. Naturally, Wufei wouldn't have trusted me to pick out a bottle of wine; that was too refined. More of a Quatre task. I shrugged off the creeping inferiority complex and targeted the beer in the back coolers.

My heart rate eased as I entered the fruit and vegetable section. I nabbed a couple apples and a banana along the way, and I was even humming a tune. Oh, yeah, I was coming down from my "battle mode" high just fine, when the barest flicker of motion on the edge of my awareness triggered my reflexes. There was the shadow of another person I had missed before, their form blocked by a pyramid of pineapples. I bent over to tie a shoe. Well, I looked like I was tying a shoelace, but I was monitoring the shadow person. I didn't make it obvious! I was an expert in covert operations. The shadow didn't move and nor did I for a few tense seconds.

(o)

"Maxwell! That is our food in your hands."

"What?" I asked. I didn't squeak or jump, but I almost did as Fei's voice yanked my mind out of its daydream. "What? They're clean! I washed my hands first." I was, however, strangling the chicken, or would have had it had a neck. Okay, so I hadn't completely shaken off the last job yet.

Wufei must have noticed my frown deepen. He hadn't left the kitchen. He was resting against the refrigerator five feet away, arms crossed over his chest, eyes scrutinizing my face through narrow black slits.

"Go talk to Quatre …or Trowa." Wufei said loftily.

He was a very decent guy, but his arrogant mannerisms could piss me off. It was a good thing he wasn't taller than me or he'd add "looking down his nose" to his posture. As it was, he tried anyway, which just got under my already oversensitive skin.

"And _why_ is that? What do they know that you and I don't?"

_Especially Trowa. _Quatre was a buddy I could and often did have these little heart-to-hearts with, but Trowa? That guy's about as open as, well, a can of soup. Heero's more a can of ice-cold beer. Beer, damn!

His smooth eyebrows arched. "Nothing, but they can…explain."

He opened the refrigerator and removed a bottle of mineral water. His hesitancy in speaking openly was annoying me more, which he would have noticed had he noticed my body language.

"Explain what?" I did not try to conceal the fact that I was irritated beyond belief.

"This is our vacation, try treating it like one. I'm going to my room to relax. You should, too… or talk to them."

On his way out, I heard Wufei snort to another cabin mate passing by the kitchen, who met the greeting with a grunt of his own. Heero settled his steely blue gaze on me, and said, "I'm taking my shower now."

Heero. It was Heero who entered the kitchen in Wufei's place. He had been running; his hair was messy and his bare arms and legs were shiny with sweat. He'd probably run ten miles of deserted mountain trails just to warm up. My eyes mapped out a path upwards from his legs. He was so damn near perfect; even his sweat set off his toned arms, chest, neck—like his skin had been coated in molten gold. For a moment we locked eyes and my stomach lurched.

Remembering what had happened less than an hour ago, I broke our eye contact and hid my face with my bangs as the heat rose up my neck. What teenage boy with hormones surging through his veins wanted to feel what I did about another boy? Heero would see it as the ultimate weakness, wouldn't he? Unless he didn't even recognize the symptoms. That was it. That's why he hadn't decked me already. I mean, he wasn't bothered by the way Quatre and Trowa had looked at one another when they got out the car, and he was looking right at them. I was probably the only one that had noticed. Guilty as charged.

I sank into an alcoholic-like denial. I did not relish the feeling, not of guilt and not of attraction, for want of a better term, for another male. It disturbed me, but lots of things haunted my waking world, like the produce section of the grocery store.

(o)

I stood there in the store and luxuriated in the benevolence bestowed upon me by piles of produce. You gotta understand, the incredible abundance of fresh fruits and vegetables now at my disposal just amazed me. My childhood taught me to choose from the garbage anything that didn't move. During the war, rations were nutritional necessities out of a can or vacuum-sealed wrapper. Now, I loved the produce section of the grocery stores, which was why I had nearly missed a possible enemy combatant- so many distractions.

I could smell the apples in my hand, warming to my touch as I waited for the "shadow person" to make the first move. Oh, yeah, I could wait and wait and tie and retie my shoe. When the "shadow person" stretched into view to reach for a fucking pineapple, she turned out to just be a fucking middle-aged woman comparing what appeared to be fucking identical fruit, one in each hand. No fucking weapons.

Fuck. I relaxed, stood, and loosened the grip I had on my fruit, feeling foolish. Deep breaths. In and out. In and—I got through one breathing cycle, when a low guttural moan to my immediate left and rear galvanized my nervous system back to full alert status. I crouched, twisting and aiming my weapon at the man sneaking up behind me.

"Bang?" he said bemusedly.

Okay, so I was pointing a banana at a guy not much older than me who was surrendering, hands raised and palms out. I did not, however, drop the apples even as he very pointedly checked me out.

"Sorry," I muttered. An irritating flush climbed my neck and I felt like a complete idiot. I left the scene of my stupidity thankful that this was a temporary neighborhood and that I'd never see the guy again.

Oh yeah, I was wrong about that. I was wrong about lots of things at the time. Combat mode was not doing me any favors out in the real world.

(o)

I broke from my musings at the "sound" of Heero waiting for me to answer him. His silent glares hung heavy in the air. Had he asked a question? I watched as he swiped at his tangle of bangs, a gesture that was usually impatient but today seemed languid and sensuous. I was riveted in place. He was going to shower. Nice. I had seen him in a communal shower before. I didn't even have to imagine what he'd look like naked with water streaming over his muscles.

"I will make it short," he said. His eyes scanned the kitchen behind me, attempting to gage the lunch ETA from the condition of the surfaces.

"Um…okay. It'll be awhile before lunch in done, and… um… just to warn you, in case you missed it, I have KP duty, so you might want to make your eating-out plans while you're at it," I told him.

I topped off my sentence with an exclamation-point smile.

"!"

He smiled, or one of the corners of his mouth curled slightly, fleetingly, comma-like.

","

Anyone not looking for it would have missed it. "I can handle it," he told me.

Unlike me, I guess.

(o)

Okay, so after the false alarm at the pineapple stand, I holstered my banana, and marched off to complete my assignment and choose some damn beer. I yanked out the first and largest damn case I could get my arms around and spun on a heel. Damn. That guy, the enemy combatant I'd taken out with a banana, was watching me and smiling. Now, I'm a dangerous guy to get riled up, so I began more of those deep breathing exercises Wufei had taught me and pulled an airy smile out of my bag of tricks. I figured I'd best hit the road while I was in control of my brain and wait for 'Fei in the car.

"Thirsty?" the banana-guy asked me.

"Yep," I answered and struck off in the direction of the cash register, Wufei's other orders pushed aside. Banana-man matched my pace as I strode to overtake him.

No line at the gate. Swell.

"Can I see your ID?" the cashier asked me.

Who woulda thought the employee kid would care? I flashed my Preventer's ID and pulled out my wallet. I was oozing with confidence, which didn't stop me from chattering away. I forgot about what, but it probably included the clean air and the lack of snow, but the promise of snow in the higher elevations was pretty exciting and the absence of trash in the streets was neat and on and on and on—

"I need to see your driver's license, um, sir," he said, adding on that "sir" part with a tone of foreboding. I could tell; it was my job to read other people, put them at ease, and fit in. I must have given him one of Heero's bona fide-killer "I dare you to insist" looks, because he started wiping his hands on his pants.

"I don't get asked," I said.

He croaked, "It's the law," one I should know, being a law enforcement officer of the highest order.

"Sure." I grinned and slapped my Shuttle-rated pilot's license onto the counter.

"Um… This shows you're only eighteen. Law is twenty-one."

_Crap. Busted_. The cashier seemed proud to have done his math correctly. He had no idea who he was pressuring, obviously, but I had to admire his guts. This was probably the only place on Earth, in the whole damned universe, where it mattered. Anyone seeing the Preventer's ID let the rest pass as a rule, except this guy. 'Fei probably had a fake ID somewhere on his person, probably the one he'd lifted off me when he picked me up, which reminded me: where had Wufei gone to?

"Don't worry. It's for me anyway. Here." It was _that guy_ who had taken my banana hit in stride. He presented the cashier with his ordinary-looking driver's license and dropped a few bills on the counter. He smiled down at me and said, "Let's go."

If I hadn't been uncomfortable before, I was now. I hefted the carton, moving gingerly to avoid contact with him at the door, and made a beeline for the car, the unmarked Preventer's rental. "You didn't have to do that."

"It's all cool," banana man said, matching my pace. "It's rough being not twenty-one around here."

I couldn't shake him off. At the car I really figured I'd have to make it clear that our temporary alliance was at an end. "Thanks, man. Here's what I owe you_." And be gone_. Well, I didn't add that last part, but I thought it very, very hard, for all the good it did me.

(o)

Yeah, for all my talking, I had a difficulty communicating at times. Like then, and like in the cabin kitchen with Heero. Heero was on his way for that shower. His retreating back meant that I hadn't said too much or compromised my position. He wasn't a mind reader, thank the gods, or he'd have busted my jaw long ago. I had erotic thoughts concerning him lots of the time, which I couldn't deny to myself when I was feeling kinda vulnerable. Like at this particular moment.

Okay, so busy was good, calming and distracting. I had lunch under control; the table set, side dishes in serving bowls, glasses of… sigh… water only at each place. I was going to do this first meal in style, just to show everyone that I had class, when I wanted it. I checked the timer and noted that the roast had another ten minutes or so. Maybe, I could spare a moment and have that word with Quatre, or Trowa.

The cabin wasn't that large. No one was hard to find, and two together was easy. Trowa and Quatre were building a fire, and not in the fireplace where one was already crackling. They were necking on the nearby couch. I sucked up my shocked shout. My friends, both male, I repeat, were kissing, passionately. Not just admiring one another, but actual intimate contact was happening. Okay, I minded, but I didn't want to show it. I had my own inhibitions and, well, hang-ups, but that shouldn't translate to my friends and their choices. In fact, I was more than a little jealous of those caring, stolen moments they shared and envious of their courage.

Still, a guy who likes other guys is a dead guy, and don't forget that.

Not wanting to disturb them, but too late to go back without doing just that, I dropped the dishtowel I'd been holding and bent over to pick it up, making enough noise to warn them of my near-presence. I wasn't really an insensitive klutz.

"Duo!" Quatre cried out, pushing apart. "How's lunch coming along?"

I pretended I hadn't seen them. "In process. ETA is about ten minutes. It's gonna be great, I can tell ya. I just needed this." I waved the rag in my hand like a white flag and grinned.

Trowa chuckled, but didn't take away the arm he had around our nervous friend. "I hope the dishrag isn't an important part of the menu."

"Hey, that was a mistake that time; I told you! It fell into the soup when I wasn't looking."

Okay, cooking was a personal challenge for me. I never had a mother to teach me, or anyone, or much time with an available kitchen to learn in. All in all, I was doing okay with it.

Quatre stopped struggling against Trowa's grip on his shoulder and let out a sigh. I wondered how they had come to accept their mutual interest, and how they dealt with being part of the world of outcasts within outcasts. I was about to turn and forget what I'd been planning to ask.

"You're not intruding-" Quatre began.

"Much," Trowa added beneath his breath.

"I, uh, had a question," I said. I could hear my voice falter and suddenly felt my ear tips burn. "But it can wait. Not important. Should check the chicken."

"Maxwell," Trowa said. "What's up?"

I drew a deep breath. Get it over with. "I just want to know why… Ah, shit… Fei-man put me up to this."

Quatre colored a rosy pink, a shade lighter than the edge of t-shirt peeking out from under the neck of his grey sweater, and Trowa coughed and adjusted his position slightly. "Duo, what are you asking?"

"I mean, do I have some big sign on my back that says 'come get some'?"

Okay, I blurted that out before my better judgment could shut up my big mouth. Trowa's eyes were glittering in amusement, although Quatre looked as keenly uncomfortable as I felt.

"You want to know why every single, and not so single, girl in the Preventer's building has a crush on you, or is it the male population that has you worried?" Trowa asked.

Man, Trowa didn't pull any punches. I wrapped my arms across my chest and glared as best I could. "I'm mad, not worried. It's annoying when some jerk gets the wrong idea in his head, her head, er, _its_ head, all right?"

Trowa laughed. He really did. Quatre took that opportunity to escape his clutches, sit up, and punch his friend's chest.

"Trowa! Duo is asking for our help. It's not funny." He turned his gentle eyes to me. "I know just what you mean. Just because I'm…"

"Delicate and pretty," Trowa supplied.

"_Not_ a caveman hunk," Quatre said, frowning. "There are some people that take that to mean I'm easy or available."

Easy? Available? The horror of discovery vented out my eyes, and not my mouth because my hands were plastered over my mouth.

Quatre shot off the couch to clutch me to his chest. "I didn't mean you were!" he said to try and reassure me.

"You saying I'm girly?!" I shouted as I pushed him away. I didn't want to be coddled. I didn't want to hear this. I was so into denial I was imploding concussively with as much force as I was exploding.

Yeah, okay, I was touchy on that topic. We were all small, slender, and young men. We were picked as Gundam pilots probably based on that very feature, for a start, so we could fit into the tiny compartments onboard. Quatre was my best bud. He was the cutest, blondest guy I'd ever seen, although I'd never tell him that, because he was also the deadliest and smartest, and very impulsive—Wufei pulling a close second. Trowa had the lithe, flexible body of the trapeze clown he had once been. Wufei and…sigh…Heero were Asian, smooth-bodied, and graceful as cats. I was a tough little nut to crack. None of us was the least bit "girly."

"No! Don't run off, Duo. Stay. Sit." He was stronger than he looked. Quatre with his delicate, flaxen beauty held my wrists in an iron grip. I could have twisted out of his hold, though, because I was tougher, rougher, and wilier, but I conceded. He hadn't completely answered my questions. My sexually had never been questioned before, not like this. I was a man, goddamnit!

"I'm not some fag, either!" I regretted that stupid outburst instantly. Quatre folded as if I'd slugged him. "I-I sorry. I didn't mean it," I said immediately.

Trowa looked about to crush me. "You had better mean that apology, Maxwell."

I nodded vigorously, and then sank onto the couch with Quatre in the middle between us. "I don't know _what_ I am," I whined, deflated, angry, hurting with that admission.

Trowa shook his head and pursed his lips, as much to supply the answer, "asshole." "Duo, don't tell me you've never really looked at yourself in the mirror."

"Huh? Of course I have, er, do." I realized I was hurting Quatre's feelings with my hardened eyes and my sideways glare, so I breathed deeply and let it all out. Twice. Three times. I winked and grinned. "Otherwise, I'd cut my throat when I shaved."

Quatre's eyes widened the approximate size of twin skating rinks, but Trowa knew I was joking. "I meant in a full-length mirror."

"No."

_When and why would I do that?_ I never owned a mirror. Clothes fit because they felt right when I tried them on. When I suited up, it was all by feel and a buddy cross-check. I was a man who liked girls. And Heero. Girls. They were pretty and open, easy to talk to, no posturing, competing. Hilde was a friend. She understood guys. Sally Po, too. Mostly.

Trowa leaned over Quatre and said in a low and sexy voice, "Because you are a gorgeous, attractive guy, Duo." He straightened, eyes focused into the distance, a smirk setting the curves around his mouth. "Just ask Heero, if you don't believe me."

I was nearly jerked into an alternate universe when Heero's voice intoned over my shoulder, "Ask me what?"

_Ah, Jeez… _

Now, where had all my witty comebacks skittered off to? My mouth opened and my brain failed to provide the quip to save my pride, and my skin. I froze in place. Yeah, I liked Heero, but that was my deepest, darkest secret. I thought. Had Trowa guessed about how I felt? I mean, a guy who liked other guys was a dead guy. Who'd want to admit to an obsession like that, a damned unhealthy one?! Who'd want to be an outcast?

Heero was waiting for me to say something, again. What in hell was I to say? _Heero, do you think I'm cute? _ Those would be the last words I ever uttered, because no matter how tough I thought I was, Heero could bend steel bars with his bare hands. I imagined a pretzel-Duo, dangling from Heero's hands, and laughed with nervous energy. "Ah, heh, heh…"

Trowa was unstoppable, for some miserable reason of his own. _What had I done to him lately to deserve this? I had apologized for the salt in his coffee joke, hadn't I?_

"Wouldn't you say Maxwell's hot?" he asked.

Okay, so if I was frozen before on the couch next to Quatre, I was melted in place now, the fire in me flaring out, fusing Trowa's creepy smile to his face with my scorching, flame-thrower glare.

_Retreat! Retreat!_ My brain screamed over the intercom. _Gods freaking alive!_ In my surreal flash of friend-frying, I'd practically forgotten Heero hovering mere inches away. _Ah, hell. Just break my neck and end this wretched moment, why don't you._

Heero dropped to his knees. _Here it comes…_ I could feel his body heat on my leg and hip as he drew closer. I could smell his piney shampoo. His hand, rock-hard, unyielding was on my shoulder. _Just a little higher and "snap!" Get it over with._ _Make it quick, please! _Next thing I knew, his warm hand had brushed past my bangs and was pressed to my forehead.

"No. He's normal." Heero actually said that about me.

I opened my mouth to shout "Just as I was saying!" when Heero's face was in mine a hairbreadth away, those deadly, blue eyes raking over my face.

"But Trowa's right; you are attractive."

I _was_ in an alternate universe. I had to be. No way would the Heero _I_ knew say that. Alternate universe or I was losing it. Battle _fatigue-us extremis_. I was stunned, but at long last my brain clicked into combat mode and established an escape route.

"The chicken!"

It burst from my lips as I vaulted over the back of the couch and rocketed to the safety of the kitchen and away from Trowa's smug smirk, Quatre's pained look, and Heero's earnest expression. No way in hell was I going to fall into that insanity! I liked my fantasies crowded into my dreams at night where they belonged. But Heero's closeness had been real, just like that of banana man earlier, the unsolicited man.

(o)

There I stood, juggling a twelve-pack of beer in one arm while trying to open the trunk of the car with the other under the scrutiny of …

"Gill. My name's Gill, um, Duo. Ah, your name was on your badge. You really with Preventers?"

Whoa doggies! That was too personal and invasive. I sure as hell did not like where this was heading.

"Listen," I began, straightening and balancing the beer on my knee, because the trunk was locked and, naturally, Fei-man had the keys.

I looked up and spied Wufei scowling at me from the exit and heading my way, arms loaded with bags. Shit. I had forgotten to help him choose the meat entrée to cook. Banana man tracked my gaze to my grumpy friend closing in, and then stepped closer, if that were possible.

"The Chinese dude your boyfriend?"

"What? Fuck, no!" I yelped. I must have been out of practice or really tired from the last job, because normally I would have joked my way out of this whole mess. Instead, I must have sent him some secret message of yearning, because in a flash his hands were on my ass and his crotch was driving into my thigh.

(o)

Not what I wanted on my mind when I was dealing with oven-hot chicken. My thoughts were running helter-skelter trying to get a grasp on reality. Okay, a guy liking another guy might not get off-ed right away, but he could get burned.

"Damn!"

I bit off the rest of what I'd usually say and blew on my fingers. Don't try to wiggle a chicken leg to test if it's done without a hot pad. Suddenly, I found my hand was in the air as I was dragged to the sink. The faucet gushed and icy water trickled over my pink fingertips and over Heero's naturally tanned right hand.

"It isn't burned," he told me in an amused tone of voice.

"I know it isn't," I said. I was a mite testy. "I know when I've fucking burned myself!"

My wrist was released from that iron grip, but the firm chest leaning into my side didn't budge. "I meant the roast. I assumed you were mad about burning it. Smells good."

"So do you."

_Oh dear gods, had I said that aloud?_ I must not have because in the next instant I was still alive and breathing, however, Heero's face faltered; dare I say it softened slightly? No, more likely it was mild alarm. His still-damp hair framed his face and eyes, those killer eyes.

"I'll get the _rest_ of dinner on the table. You can bring _that_," he said, punctuating the words "rest" and "that" with a nasally resonance.

_Sure thing Heero. At your service._ "Just what I was gonna do, before you crowded it up in here."

He grunted and I could swear he chuckled once on his way to the table carrying the boxes of deli potato salad and coleslaw, Wufei's choices. Where had my sense of humor flown off to? I sounded bitchy even to myself. Touchy, touchy, Duo. I knew that a show weakness of any kind around these guys would give them an opening. They could tease the hell out of a guy once they smelled fear. Even Heero, on occasion. He had a wicked sense of humor, although, he rarely directed it my way. 'Course, I didn't know who the hell _this_ Heero was.

Okay, right. I figured out what this was all about, then: a test of my nerves. Heero wanted to determine whether I was mentally sound enough, after the last taxing job, for him to remain a week in the same cabin with me. He probably figured Trowa was just setting up the assault at 'Fei's insistence and under Quatre's scrutiny.

Well, that was better than the alternative universe theory. Right. Feeling grounded again, I managed to carve the bird into man-sized hunks and bring the platter to the table without further incident. Wufei came into the room like a stiff breeze, his crisp white slacks crackling. Trowa, and Quatre filtered into the room, and everyone found a chair. I started the meal by passing the meat platter to Wufei on my left. Heero was on my right.

"So," Trowa said, his long bangs barely hiding his smile. "Where's the beer? I was certain you promised beer with lunch."

"Trowa," Quatre growled. _Poor guy._ He was trying to protect my feelings or image or something with honorable intentions.

"I, ah, I dropped it," I said. _I'm cursed. Now, drop the subject._

"On a man's foot," Wufei added. "A wasteful way of dealing with a situation."

"I didn't do it on purpose!" Yes, I was defensive. "That guy _groped_ me!"

"What guy?" Heero asked.

"Just another of Maxwell's constant stream of _admirers_, right?" Trowa remarked.

Heero, well, I didn't want to see his expression, but my eyes darted disobediently in his direction. I could feel his dark glower tensing up like the sixth man on the bench, waiting his turn to get into the game.

"No one important," Wufei said. "Although, you shouldn't pick up strangers."

"Wha--?!" I started to yell, when I noticed the arch amusement playing at the edges of Wufei's lips and clammed up. I could be the better man and take a ribbing.

I was rewarded with a blink as he passed the platter to Trowa. "What is that cabbage dish called? I chose the freshest looking vegetable offerings, but they were all unidentified," Wufei asked.

"Coleslaw," Trowa said. "Don't break the fork, Yuy, this place is a rental."

I dared not look at Heero. In his mind, _I knew_, it was me he was distorting into that pretzel shape and not his eating utensil. All his respect for me was surely dashed forever, leaving him with the street-rat Duo, who was worthy of a thrashing and gods-knows-what else he could come up with given the time and incentive. I was afraid to open my mouth and stir that deadly imagination, stoke the fires within. No reason for me to encourage him and get burned alive.

"Chang Wufei!" Quatre cried out. "You can't just change the subject like that! Duo doesn't pick up anyone. They just…just can't help themselves."

Goddamn. Could I dig a hole and climb in? A trench. Bunker down and ride out the assault. Or…dig further and visit China. That was far away. L2 was further. I should vacation on L2 from now on.

"He should buy some new clothes," Trowa said. "He's grown. _You've_ grown, Maxwell. Your pants and shirts are skin tight, and, as much as I appreciate the view, it sends the wrong signals."

"Huh?" All right, when was I going to step in and tell them all where they could shove it and where _they _could all go take a vacation next time? I was bristling and offended at the same time.

"Many homosexual men wear clothes to show off their assets," Trowa said.

I was truly mortified and angry. I was about to blow, when Heero butt in with, "It's going to snow tonight."

_Out of the blue we have a weather report. _

"I didn't bring anything warm enough. Did you?" Heero asked me.

He was asking me. I swallowed back all my choice, glib rejoinders, mumbling, "…no..." I don't know if anyone else could have heard me; I was so quiet. I mean, come on. Heero Yuy unprepared? He was never unprepared for a mission, er, vacation.

"After lunch, we'll go shopping. We passed an outlet mall on the way here. Two point three miles back. Hopefully, I can get a winter coat at a reasonable price."

"What gives, Yuy? Four sentences strung out at one time?" Trowa mumbled.

Quatre saved everyone else the trouble and kicked his shins. I chewed over what Heero had said. I hadn't noticed passing an outlet mall on the way to the cabin, but then it seems that wasn't the only thing that I'd missed on the drive, either that or Heero took a different route up than 'Fei. Fei's rental car brought me, Quatre and Trowa, while Heero drove solo with all the supplies. Ah,ha! That's how it happened then! Someone had gotten in under my radar and switched out the real Heero for this doppelganger.

Right. Or I was hallucinating. Man, I didn't want to lose it in front of my friends like this. So, before I started doing serious damage, I figured I'd better head on out on my own a bit. I stopped my mental backpedaling and found my solid footing and my voice. "I think I'll head on home."

Of course, I hadn't filled Heero in along the way while my mind tracked along on its trajectory, so, naturally, he followed his own tangential trail of logic to its unassailable end.

"No. Preventer's dorm is too far and in the wrong direction."

"Huh?" I was so confused.

He leaned close, practically touching noses, and added, "Mission complete. Stand down, soldier."

Wufei spoke up. "Yuy means that you're not at work any more."

"Please, Duo. Relax. It's our vacation." That was Quatre's nickel's worth of advice.

"Chill out, Maxwell," Trowa said with a rumbling chuckle.

And that was that. I got it. Again, a new possible explanation. This was a holiday, vacation. It was not like real life. Okay, so I figured that out before, hadn't I? My mind was still flowing into and out of "infiltrate and destruct" mode, while everyone else was "at ease." Things were fitting into place, and I smiled.

"So, when the vacation's over, does the real Heero Yuy come back?" I asked.

"Baka," he said with a snort, but it was a smiling snort, not a disgusted one, so I didn't press the issue.

I wasn't going to battle this Heero over a mythical point. Bring me out of alert status; gradually reincorporate Duo into the rest of humanity. I got it. It wasn't some convoluted date scenario. I could go shopping with Wufei; I could go shopping with Heero. I didn't have to go ballistic if a guy checked me out, or a girl. I wasn't attracted to guys. Well, just Heero. Nuts, that hadn't changed. Deny it to the end of time, but it couldn't be helped. I liked Heero Yuy, both of them, but especially this new one.

"Yeah, heh, heh… Just forget that, okay?" I laughed.

"Shut up and eat your food," Heero said.

I could have sworn he winked. At me.

"After a complete investigation," Trowa said. "I call the upstairs bathroom ours and the downstairs one Maxwell's. No arguments! You use up all the hot water washing that mane of yours and leave a mat of hair the size of a small animal in the drain. The downstairs one shares a hot water heater with the kitchen and laundry; the upstairs has one of its own."

I was not allowed to argue. Quatre was next to report in.

"I called ahead. Ours is the only occupied cabin within a radius of 200 yards, until the weekend, when the skiers pour into the area. If we can't leave on Sunday, we can rent day-to-day after that the following week. I prepared our cooking and cleaning schedule for the week."

"What could happen so that we couldn't we leave?" I asked. I glanced down at the neat chart my bud had drawn up.

"Snow," Heero said. "There is sufficient firewood. More stacked 100 feet from the back door. I found three outbuildings, locked: one containing grounds equipment, one yard furniture, and another safety vests and oars. There is a boat house, pier, and launch one quarter mile north. The back steps are in poor repair and icy. I do not recommend using that exit."

Okay, so maybe I was wrong about my friend's paranoia. Maybe I was a little keyed up. Maybe I really needed this break from endless mission after mission. Of course, there was 'Fei's heavy duffle bag to consider…

And, uh, if you wanted to know, lunch was good. Everyone told me so. Oh, and the shopping trip was _almost_ like a date. I know what I said before, that it wasn't, but I was wrong, again. But that's another story.

End, It's a Vacation, Chapter One.


	2. It’s a Vacation Chapter 2

**DEFYING GRAVITY**

**Part One:** **It's a Vacation**

**Chapter Two**

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Gundam Wing or its characters, nor do I make any monetary profit off this story.  
Warnings: 1x2x1, 3x4x3, AU, yaoi, some language  
--Kaeru Shisho 5/1/2007 14:48

* * *

"Needs a tune up," I said. "Hear that 'ting'? Timing's for shit. What kinda monkeys you think they got working down there in maintenance?"

"Hn," Heero grunted in agreement or possibly he didn't know the answers, but I always figured he was agreeing.

"Yeah, stupid kids and old geezers looking to retire. They don't drive them. They don't depend on them to work. What do they care? Maybe I'll retire to the Preventer's garage and fix these babies up right. Get them purring."

Heero took his eyes off the road and flashed me with his blue eyes. Blue eyes and dark messy hair. Man, he was good-looking. He dressed in simple clothes, neat, always neat and tidy, except for his hair.

"Not a bad idea."

_Huh?_ I shot Heero a quick, sidelong glance. "Uh, I was kidding."

He shrugged and signaled left. He turned into the crowded parking lot, dove into an empty slot on the furthest row, and cranked up the brake. I heaved out of my warm seat and felt the slap of cold damp air on my face. I hated the cold.

"Coats first?"

"Hnn." Heero strode determinedly, like he knew where he was going.

"Guess not. Okay, it's your game plan, so lead on. Been here before?" I asked.

"No." He pulled a pamphlet out of his pants pocket and jammed it into my hand.

Ah, he had studied the outlet store directory and map. Naturally. "Gotcha. Okay, so some coats and I could use socks. I didn't pack enough, for some reason. Maybe I was hoping to do a wash every day? What do you think?"

"Do you ever do laundry?"

Well, no. "Why bother? I pay the fee and have it done for me."

"You could learn. Use the facilities to gain the skills to move out."

"I could, but why? I'm hardly living in the dormitory anyway. And… I don't like being alone, completely that way. I mean, why would I want a place to take care of all by myself, ya know?"

We were talking, really talking about, well, stuff. He and I never talked about anything but missions or Preventers. 'Course, this was sorta skirting Preventer topics. I had no idea where we were heading, and didn't care until Heero shot me a cold glance.

"You wouldn't have to live alone."

Oh. He had me there.

"In here." Heero didn't waste words.

I caught the sign as we entered. "GUESS? Is that an outfitter?"

"No, fashion."

_Fashion?_ "Heero, I just need some warm clothes for the week. I can shop for some jeans on my own later."

Heero shook his head and caught the eye of a salesperson about our age.

"Hey," I waved a hand in front of my stubborn friend's face. "You listening to me?"

"Hey," echoed the clerk at my elbow. "What can I help you gen-tell-men find today?"

I figured he meant us and answered, "Nothing-"

"He needs slacks in corduroy and wool, not black; jeans that fit, black's okay; some shirts both casual and dress; sweaters that coordinate; and a sports coat …ah… two, one wool, for a start." Heero rattled off an entire wardrobe like he was requisitioning equipment for his next mission.

I stood, mouth gaping. The salesperson whipped out a measuring tape and a smile. "Great. I'll need a few measurements."

"I haven't enough money," I whispered to Heero; I was definitely angry and uncomfortable.

"Yes, you have. Your income is comparable to mine and you have practically no expenses."

_How did he know? Besides…_ "I mean, I didn't bring much with me."

"You have a Preventer's credit card. Use that."

"This is personal. I can't expense that!"

"How many sets of clothes have you destroyed on the job?"

_Lots._

"Those are expenses. You can replace them."

"They didn't cost… Holy shit!" I checked the price tag on a pair of brown cords the salesman was holding up for my approval. "I haven't spent that much on my entire wardrobe in a year!"

Heero smiled. "He'll try those with that jacket," he pointed out a flecked, wool tweed, "and find a shirt, or sweater."

I shook my head, but that smile of his sapped the force from it. What I wouldn't do to see that smile again_. Not much, I can tell you_. All my arguments slipped away. _What, me worry? Sure, pile them on. Color? Ask him_.

If Heero wanted to see me in nice clothes, well, I'd treat him to a show anytime. I wasn't shy and I liked attention. And, yeah, I looked good in those clothes. Looser jeans that didn't hug my crotch, shirts with sleeves I didn't have to roll up and necks that didn't gape, sweaters without holes and that "draped" right. Heero smiled or shook his head, helping me choose the best colors and fit. I picked out my own socks and some new underwear while I was at it. _What the hell.!_

Heero asked me to wear one of the new outfits, and I did without a whimper. While I was charging my purchases for the very first time with a credit card, Heero asked the same salesclerk about the various outfitters in the area.

"We will store these back at the car," he told me, grabbing two bags and leaving me to juggle the other five. I could do it, too. It was nice to know he didn't think I was incapable of doing more than my share.

"So, when did you learn so much about clothes shopping?" I asked.

"Internet."

Okay, I guess he could fit that in between everything else he was researching. He locked everything in the truck and steered off in a new direction.

"This store has some good deals, I was told," he said.

"Okay with me. Yeah, I could use clearance section with markdowns."

Picking out down coats, hats, gloves, and scarves was a cinch after sweating over everything else. We were both outta there in under thirty minutes.

"You bring shoes other than those?" he asked.

I looked down at my worn, multipurpose, steel-toed work boots. "Nope, these are it. In summer, I'll pick up a pair of sandals or sneakers."

Heero stared a moment, his expression inscrutable, although I'd say it was just him thinking through the possibilities for our next move. "I need a pair of winter boots. There's a shoe store."

"There's five of them, according to this map."

"Pick one."

Why not? This was fun, spending company money on clothes for me, while Heero waited and watched and smiled. I staggered out of the shoe store carrying my winter wear and with shoes, new shoes that fit! Boots, dress shoes, and a really cool pair of basketball shoes with Gilbert Arenas' name on the label. I was chattering along, excited about my new things and by an entire afternoon in the presence of Heero. A heady experience.

After loading the trunk with the rest of our bags, I checked my watch. "We've been gone for hours."

Heero shrugged and looked up, judging the likelihood of snow starting any moment. "We'll eat here then head back; that is, if you'd like that?"

_You're asking me?_ "Yeah, we could catch a burger or something."

Heero smiled, chuckled, actually, and then shrugged as he pulled out his cell phone. "Chang? Fine. We will eat here. Understood. Bye." He tilted his head to the car, and we got in and left. "I saw a restaurant on the way. The shoe salesman recommended it."

"Oh? That's okay with me," I said.

"You're easy to please."

"I have simple tastes. When I was growing up, picky would get you no where good; you'd starve, freeze, or be abandoned."

"You are resourceful."

"Oh yeah?" I grinned. You'da though he'd crowned me king for noticing.

"It's …fun… to do things for you." He stumbled over the kind words this time.

"Hey, thanks, man. I gotta tell you, yeah, I've never bought so much in my life that didn't repair a Gundam!" I was grinning like an idiot, but I couldn't stop. "Hey, is this the place? Looks nice. Tempura?"

"It's Japanese. You don't like it?"

And I swear, he looked worried enough to turn the car around and go to the sub shop across the street.

"I probably will love it. I just never ate it before. Hey, I like new things. Come on!"

I was glad for the new clothes. The place was posh, and, had I been wearing my ripped, stained, resale-shop clothes, I wouldn't have fit in. Heero chattered in Japanese to the pretty hostess, who was certainly falling in love with him as she led us—well _him,_ while I just tagged along—to a low table. We sat on mats on the floor. I was speechless, but Heero was talkative. He waved away menus, and ordered dishes off the top of his head. Then she bowed and left us.

He became aware of my quiet state and looked at me from under a fall of bangs. "I ordered for both of us. Faster. I hope you like the food."

"I like eating, Heero. If I can catch it and kill it, I can eat it!"

His eyes widened slightly. "You were kidding."

"Yes." _Possibly._

I leaned to the side, while the waitress returned to pour tea for us. Heero said something to her in Japanese, to which she nodded and bowed.

"I asked her to bring the dishes as soon as they are ready and not to bother with the traditional order."

I smiled. I had no idea what he was talking about. "Nice place."

He nodded and sipped tea.

I tossed back the tiny cup and poured another. "Thirsty."

"Would you like something else to drink?"

"Ah, some soda would be great. Lemon-lime or anything."

He nodded and caught the girl's eye, not that that was hard. He rattled off something and she left, thrilled to carry out his orders.

"Looks like you have a fan," I said. "If you want to arrange something later, I'll find my way back. I mean, I don't want to cramp your style, you know?"

"What are you talking about?"

"The waitress, if you want to ask her out."

"Why would I do that? I'm with you."

"Just my point. I'll do a quick, quiet exit—"

Heero's arm shot out and caught my wrist in his grasp. "I want to be with you, not her."

"Oh." _Well, wow_. "Okay, cool." I pulled my hand free and reached for my empty tea cup. We were saved more embarrassment when my soda and the first courses arrived. Cucumbers sliced in a tangy dressing, sweet potatoes, sliced, cold, but cooked, and a long, skinny, green vegetable wrapped with a green cord. I poked at that last one.

"Asparagus and that's a scallion around it," Heero said, following my gaze to the questionable food.

Okay. I knew how to use chopsticks, thankfully, and tasted everything. "I like the cucumbers best, I think," I said.

"Me, too."

A platter of what looked like chicken nuggets on cabbage appeared. "Pork in breading fried quickly," Heero explained as he served us both.

That was delicious and I inhaled most of it as bowls of rice and soup arrived. "Miso soup," he said.

I watched my friend drink directly from the small bowl without a spoon and copied him. "I like this, too. I like it all, thanks."

Heero smiled, warming the whole room, I think, and then he returned to eating in silence. It was a nice quiet, though. The waitress returned and he handed her a card.

"Ah, I can pay my share," I said.

"Next time, you can treat," he said. "We can go. I'll get my card at the door."

"Shouldn't we tip?"

"On the card," he said and waited a moment for me to follow him to the door.

The drive home, I figured, would be silent, unless I started in. "Hey, that was a first for me. You musta grown up eating that way, huh?"

"No. I was not raised by a Japanese family, but I have researched the customs and foods, and studied the language. I'm glad you liked it."

More silence and then he said, "I like you. I had fun. I'd like to do this again."

The tips of my ears burned. I didn't know where to look. My heart beat a tattoo on the inside of my ribcage. Had I heard that correctly?

"Duo?" Heero's voice, usually flat, nearly cracked.

"Ah, sure. Dinner or the shopping?"

His jaw muscles tightened. "Either. Neither. Something else. Your choice."

"Oh. Okay. Sure."

He surprised me further with a chuckle. "That cost me a year's therapy to say that. You could at least show some enthusiasm."

He was asking me out on a date. Maybe. My hands felt clammy. "You've been to a shrink?"

"Yes. It helped me sort out my problems and resolve my emotional blocks. I may have been the 'perfect soldier,' but I was far from being the perfect man."

"Coulda fooled me," I said without thinking.

"No, you pointed out already that you noticed the difference in me at lunch. After the last vacation, I wanted to change." He looked at me a moment, then his eyes returned to the road. "It was suggested that I was offering you nothing."

My nervous stomach was doing loop-de-loops. My mouth opened. My mouth closed. I found a foot sized to fit inside, opened wide, and stuffed it in. "Oh, well…that's… something."

I don't think that's what he was expecting me to say. He sighed and dropped the topic. I don't know what I was thinking. My mind was reeling with blinking lights: "TELL HIM YOU LIKE HIM, TOO!" but my mouth failed me. I could not do it. I mean, the mythical hero could be adored, but when the fantasy came alive… whoa baby! What if he meant "like" like a friend? It was hard to tell with Heero. To be frank, I hadn't a lick of experience with this intimacy shit, less than him, I suspected.

My mouth remained sealed, frustratingly so, because I'd always thought I was gifted at winging it by the seat of my pants.

He stopped outside a convenience store, motioning to me to stay put, and came out lugging a couple six-packs. He loaded them in back and peeled off from the curb without a word. Then-- "You date much?" he asked.

_When had I the time for dating?_ "Ah, not much, not really. I kinda went from diapers to Gundams to Preventers with a few coffee shops and lunch breaks to round it out."

"That's hard to believe. You are so outgoing and popular."

"Hardly," I murmured. My comfort level was off the charts. I wanted out of the car and off the planet, putting a distance between myself and him, the source of my discomfort. But then I saw the cabin looming in the distance and suddenly I wished we weren't home yet. Stay. Go. Stay. Go. Fight or Flee.

"Tomorrow then?" he asked as we rolled next to Wufei's car and parked.

"Tomorrow, oh, ah, yeah. Yeah. Okay. That would be fine. Great, yeah."

I raced into the living room, flushed, confused, excited, and scared to death. Guys who liked other guys, met bad ends, right? It was just a passing phase. _Sure, Maxwell, a goddamned three-year phase._

Damn. Heero said he _liked_ me. He wanted to go out with me, just me. But he could have meant he liked me better than, say, dogshit, and wanted me to be a real friend to do stuff with. Or maybe not. Man…

I dashed past the door into the living room and was happy to see the familiar faces of my friends. They looked a little surprised, but I figured I'd interrupted something. It looked like they were gathering around the TV to watch the stack of movies Trowa was holding. I'd forgotten my new clothes, how I must have looked to them, wide-eyed, breathless, all rosy-cheeked, and probably wild and half-cocked crazy.

"Hey, we're back!" I shouted.

"Maxwell!" Heero stood in the doorway, arms loaded with his bags. "Unload so I can lock up."

"Oh, yeah, right!" I grinned and spun around. I skid around Heero, avoiding a collision with his packages by an inch, if I was lucky.

"Baka," he grumbled as I slipped by, but he cracked a smile and shook his head taking the sting out of the insult. He must have said something to Quatre, because he rushed to jam on his shoes to join me outside.

"Did you have fun?" Quatre asked, arms loaded. He looked the very icon of ski-instructor cool. Blue eyes, teeth white as a collar of roiling surf, bridge of his nose and chin lightly tanned from- no surprise- skiing, he'd told me.

"Yeah, it was great. I emptied the store. I got these cool clothes, shoes, lots of stuff. Heero was a trooper, I gotta tell ya. If you ever need fashion advice, he's your man. I didn't know twill from tweed before today, and he knew Donegal from Harris." I whispered, "All new." New clothes; I was in awe.

Quatre was smiling and nodding and banging boxes past the front door. Trowa caught my eye on the way in.

"You missed my chili," he said.

"Ohhh," I groaned. "I was really looking forward to that, too."

"There's leftovers," Wufei said. "Where did you eat?"

"Japanese restaurant. It was way cool. We sat on the floor and this cute waitress fell in love with Heero when he started giving commands in Japanese, so she brought us our food extra fast. We had these incredible pork nuggets and cucumber salad I think I can make and a kind of soup with these little onions and mushrooms floating on top that we had to drink out of the bowl, I mean, I did that as a kid 'cause we never had spoons, but this was a really posh place."

Quatre chuckled and wrapped me in a quick embrace. "Sounds like you had a great time."

Wufei and Trowa exchanged glances. "You understand anything he just said?" Wufei asked.

"I heard "floor", "love", "Heero", "incredible nuggets", and then something about cucumbers and mushrooms," he said.

Wufei smiled, frowned, and elbowed him. Heero had returned from his room, where he'd stashed his purchases, while I was still awash in a sea of my own newly-purchased flotsam. His eyes scanned the room, settling on me. His expression was uncertain, probably mirroring my own.

Quatre grabbed one more bag. "We're all glad you had a good time, and you look very handsome in your new clothes, Duo. Come on; let's put your new things away so we can watch this DVD Wufei's wanted us to see."

Okay, so it wasn't our first date really, but it was awkward as hell there at the end, and I heard first dates usually were. Of course, at the time I wasn't thinking "date" I was not liking my feelings and reveling in them at the same time. Sounds confused, a mess? Yep, that was me all right.

(o)

Although we each had a small bedroom to ourselves in the cabin, we shared a bathroom upstairs and one downstairs. For showers, I was relegated to the downstairs, ancient, claw-footed, tub/shower combo, because I took the longest, and that was because of my knee-length, thick, mostly straight, you-get-the-idea hair. The others could be in and out in five minutes and so could I, if I didn't wash my hair. Anyway, we'd run out of movies to watch and were tired of breaking our jaws with yawns, so we all agreed to turn in. That's when I took my turn with the downstairs shower. I spent another twenty minutes carding my hair snag-free then sat at the fireplace to dry. This was a luxury I enjoyed. Better than braiding it wet and going to bed with a damp towel wrapped around the rope.

The quiet was nice, if I didn't try and think too hard. When not vacationing, the five of us plus a posse of other castaways from the war lived in the Preventer's dormitory with minimal privacy, so this was lovely having the entire living room and fire to myself. The fire popped and crackled. Peace.

We had fought a war for peace; it was nice to enjoy it once in awhile. I wanted to forget my last job. I did not want to think about Heero, his eyes, his strong grip on my wrist, his wry smile, his ramrod straight back that made it seem like he was taller than me when we were actually the same exact height, and size, pretty much. I kept my thoughts above the waist, for about five minutes.

I could hear a door open, light footfalls, and another close, then hear it repeat a minute or two later. Probably the bathroom. We drank a lot of beer watching movies, beer that Heero and I picked up on the way back from the outlet stores, using _just _his Preventer's ID.

My hair was mostly dry, dry enough so I could braid it and hit the sack. It had been a long time since I had been able to relax like this and have a comfortable bed to myself and no gun under my pillow. Well, I was supposed to have checked my gun in with Wufei when I got into the car, and I had, but I'd pinched it back. It wasn't stealing, since it was mine to begin with. I enjoyed the last of the fire, patted the budge of the gun in my waistband, and started up the stairs.

I heard voices. Quatre's cry and an answering low grumble from Trowa. _Give it up and go to sleep._

Another sound out of Quatre, but this one resonated like a muffled sob. I took the stairs two at a time until I was outside his door, my hand about to turn the knob. Trowa's voice rumbled close by. He was in Quatre's room, just on the other side of the door, so close I heard Trowa hiss, "Prick-tease!"

I jumped back just in time. The door flew open and he stalked past, not even seeing me in the hall, but pushing past, leaving the door ajar. I sneaked a peek inside. Quatre was naked from the waist up, covers pooling over his hips on the bed. His face anguished. That's the only way to describe that look. He was staring down at his hands until his eyes shot up, noticing me. I nearly asked if he was okay, but he beat me to it.

"I'm fine, Duo. Bad dream. Please, leave," he snapped.

Ill humor made him feel slightly less powerless, I guess. Worked for me. I stepped back and closed the door. I leaned against the wall, trying to piece together the puzzle in a way that didn't include two of my friends sharing a bed. Quatre had lied to me. He wasn't "fine" and he hadn't had a "bad dream," but I had to honor the guy's pride and not press for details. I knew what a "prick-tease" was, having been called one myself.

Man, I couldn't imagine my two friends in bed together, but I wasn't so stupid not to have guessed what had happened. Trowa had wanted sex and that Quatre had denied him. _When had they decided to do that?_

A man who screwed around with another man was a dead man; they both were. I also knew why Quatre wouldn't let a man touch him, ah, sexually. I knew secrets Trowa didn't. Still, that didn't give him the right to hassle my bud. My room was in one direction and Trowa's the other, so I sneaked silently to Trowa's door.

I was inside and pinning him to his bed, my gun at his temple an instant later. "Never, _ever_ put your hands on him again, or I will kill you without a second thought, make that without a first, I'll just do it on instinct."

My finger twitched, ready to act on its own accord. I had the situation under control and a handle on my anger, but he didn't know that, and my expression probably didn't reassure him. He nodded, slowly and minutely.

"Glad we understand each other," I said. I leapt out of his reach and pocketed the gun. He's a friend, not the enemy, I reminded myself.

Trowa blinked, but didn't move to sit up. "I don't know if you do understand, Maxwell. I love him. It's only natural to _want_."

_Natural? Another man?_

Hardly, but I knew the feeling, because I wanted. I wanted and wanted and wanted.

"He's my best bud," I said. "I love him, too."

I could see a glittering as his eyes narrowed and his head turned my way. "Not the way I do. It's…different."

"Quatre's different."

"I know. He's afraid, but I don't why- what the problem is. You do, don't you? Tell me," Trowa demanded.

He wasn't in any position to make demands, so I knew he was desperate and had told me the truth. He loved Quatre, romantically. A man who loved another man was a dead man.

"Duo, I don't want to hurt him. I don't want to see that look in his eyes again. Tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing to tell."

Before I could explain, he reared up, shouting, "You're a goddamned homophobe and a liar, Maxwell! I can't believe—" His eyes roved to my hand and to where I'd stashed my gun, as he drew a deep breath, tension building across his corded arms and back. "When you come down from your 'battle mode high', we'll talk. You can be sure of that."

_Homophobe?_

That was a first. I wasn't prepared for that insult, but that other was a sore point for me. "I don't lie!"

Again, his eyes traced the path from my hands to my waistband where the gun handle was visible. "There's not much I feel like saying to a friend about to blow my head off."

"I can't tell you. I promised Quatre. It's his decision."

"Okay," he said. "Let's get this over with tonight. I'm not going to sleep on it and Quatre needs—" his voice cut off.

"What I need—" Quatre's sudden entrance surprised me. He had on a pair of sloppy sweatpants, Trowa's, I guessed. "—is to talk with both of you."

"We got company," I said. "I hear the others heading this way. Is this what you want, really?" I asked my bud.

Quatre sighed and nodded. Behind his back, I recognized Wufei and Heero's guarded shadows. "Hey, guys," I called. "Join the party."

"What is this?" Wufei snapped.

Trowa motioned for the others to shut up and listen. Heero stepped inside, his eyes on me, his expression curious. Wufei found a wall to lean against, scowling. Quatre moved to sit beside Trowa on his bed, closed his eyes, and began to speak in a low, shaky voice. "We were captured on our way out."

"OZ mission a couple years ago," I filled in. "I ripped the data, while Quatre watched my back. We almost made it outta there."

Quatre waited for me to stop, and then continued, "Since I was the heaviest armed, the guards picked Duo as the one with the information."

"We know this story," Wufei broke in. His impatience with this interruption to his evening of self-absorbed meditation was apparent from the tenor of his voice. "Duo was…tortured. I found your cellblock with the two of you inside, together. Trowa and I cleared the corridors, while Heero held off the attack on our escape route. You and Duo remained in the hospital two days then were released. Why is this important now?"

Quarter raised his eyes, meeting Trowa's. "I was the one that was tortured."

"I read the reports in the hospital," Heero said. "You were roughed up, but he was beaten and raped."

"No! I had the records switched. I couldn't live with the," his eyes locked onto mine and held, "shame. Duo said he could. He said just being from L2 put him in a different league. If pretending I had been overlooked, if that would help me, he was willing." He gave me the kindest, saddest look ever.

"L2 and damaged goods go together," I said with a shrug.

Quatre shook his head. "They made you watch, while they r-raped me, and nearly broke you. Nearly, but not. I couldn't have been that strong, Duo, had our roles been reversed. I think L2 and strength go together."

Heero and Wufei shook their heads as if refusing to believe what they'd been told. Trowa's face was a mask of tragedy, as the information played out in his head. Quatre clenched and unclenched his hands, his face twisting in anger barely suppressed.

"My family would suffer deeply, knowing that I'd been r-raped, repeatedly, but Duo had no family, no one that cared, _he said_." Quatre's voice rose. "But that was wrong! I have a problem now that I can't deal with and, Duo, there's someone who did care what happened to you. He needed to know."

_He?_ I caught that, but I didn't think anyone else did. I thought Quatre was wrong, but I said nothing. Why did the truth matter to anyone but Quatre, and possibly Trowa? I felt Heero's glare on by back and my gut twisted. Deny, deny, deny… I felt the fatigue of the stressful day crashing over me like rain on the window, no…like a tsunami, wave upon wave. Trowa reached out, resting a hand on my bud's shoulder, but nothing was said for a moment.

We were all uncomfortable; someone had to elevate the mood. "Well, now they all know," I said. I even tried out a smile and a chuckle.

"Preventer's will pay for counseling," Wufei said. "I think you both should go- both you and Duo."

Okay so that started an argument that we were all too tired to finish. Someone walked out, me, and started the migration out of Trowa's room. Behind my back I heard Heero's voice, pitched low, commenting to Wufei. "His hair…"

My hair was loose. I don't know when I'd worn it loose around my friends. Not for a long time. I bunched it into a heavy ponytail and closed the door to my room. I braided it and crawled under the covers. Alone. A whole room to myself. The quiet. I lay there a long time listening to the sound of the wind in the pines and trying not to think.

(o)

I don't know where Quatre ended up that night, but in the morning he was wearing this smarmy look on his face, which I hated, and told me he was willing to go into therapy, if I'd go with him.

"I made us coffee," I said.

"Thanks, but don't be evasive." Quatre poured himself a mug and rejoined me in the living room, where I was reviving the fire.

"Sure," I gave in. Quatre didn't ask much out of a friendship. After all, if therapy helped Heero, what did I have to lose? A few issues? The end of my nightmares? An idiosyncrasy or two? I poked at the glowing embers and blew on the pile of paper plates I was recycling into kindling. "When I can squeeze it in."

"I think you should," he paused, unsure how to say what he knew I wouldn't like, "Go on light duty for awhile. You don't have to volunteer for the worst undercover operations."

"Someone's gotta do it. I come out alive. Who knows how many kids would have failed and died on duty, only to have to den me in anyway to mop up?"

"You don't have to do it all, Duo! You can choose to live your life and how to do that."

"And miss out on the fun?" I grinned, but I didn't fool my bud.

"None of the rest of us do! You have given your life over and over to some cause. We just want you to give to yourself now."

"Thanks, Quatre, but I'm okay. It just takes me a few days to get my 'role' outta my head, ya know?"

"When's the last time you acted as just you, can you remember?"

"Yeah, sure. It was…" _Damn._

"A year, Duo. Our last vacation together. You took off a month and then you were gone again. You are losing yourself! I never know if I'm talking to my dear friend or some character you're playing anymore. You are killing yourself!"

I was so caught up in our conversation that I didn't notice Wufei join us until I heard his voice. "Why do you think we started these vacations, Maxwell?"

"Huh? Ah, fun?" I offered.

"Yes, for you."

Oh. They did it for me, to give me chance to unwind, for my mind to stabilize. The concerned looks I was getting clued me in: I was wearing down. "You been checking on me." I didn't ask it.

"We have limits. You keep pushing yours too far." Wufei unfolded his arms.

"Coffee?"

Wufei sniffed and shook his head. "No thanks. I'm making tea."

Quatre knelt beside me, watching the flames dance along the edges of the blackening paper. "I don't want to lose my best friend."

"Yeah, thanks," I chuckled, but my shrug said it all.

"No matter what, you are my best friend. Trowa won't replace you."

"I'm not an idiot, Quat, or blind."

"No, you're very perceptive. I know you don't approve-"

"It's not about my 'approving'. It's… it's dangerous! As a kid on the run I saw everything. Everything, Quatre. You can't even imagine."

"I may have been born with a silver spoon in my mouth, but I'm not naïve. I know that life's more difficult for… homosexuals." He dipped his head and stared into the fire.

"They all became whores and died, Quatre!" I blurted out. "They'd get beat to a pulp and used until they died!"

His eyes were so blue and clear and kind. "This isn't then or L2, and we aren't street kids or helpless. And… it's the way we are. When I look into his eyes, my heart just pounds. I can't help smiling. I want… something from him that isn't just friendship, Duo. Do you understand?"

Man, did I.

"I think you do. I've seen you light up when he smiles at you, and what you do to _him _when you walk into the room_—_" He stopped, afraid he'd said too much.

I couldn't meet his gaze. The fire held me spellbound.

"And it's okay," he whispered. "It's wonderful to like somebody and feel it returned."

I was fascinated by my hands, the poker, the burning paper and where the sticks caught fire along their splintered edges.

"He couldn't take his eyes off you last night. Your hair is spectacular down." His voice was hesitant again. "Tell me when to stop before you hit me, okay?"

That broke the spell.

Smiling, I said, "Stop, then."

His smile faded and I saw this strange pinched look around his eyes. "You frightened me."

Okay, that sobered me up.

"You attacked my boyfriend, our friend, with a gun. He told me this morning." He fought back a blush and achieved a sterner expression. "Don't say what you're thinking. This isn't war time, Duo. We don't shoot friends. That's—"

"Crazy." I said that, but I was dizzy from contemplating the word "boyfriend."

"Yes, it is."

"I didn't shoot him." _Him, your boyfriend, Trowa. Gods…_

"No, so you aren't crazy, but you held a gun to his head. I was mad at you for interfering, you know that."

"Protecting…"

"I don't need protection! I'm as tough as the rest of you. That made me feel—insulted." he sighed. "It was sweet, but totally unnecessary. Trowa wouldn't hurt me."

"He has before," I reminded him.

"The _war_ is over." Quatre huffed, seeing that I looked humbled. "I was going to tell him about…what had happened, the truth. I'd been working up to it. It's hard. I will tell my family, too. Someday. Just don't want them to use the attack as an excuse for my…being gay, and use it against Trowa."

"Sure it wasn't?"

He pursed his lips and snorted with disgust. "Yes, I'm sure, and you know that I've liked," he drew his breath and held it a moment, letting it out slowly, before continuing, "boys pretty much exclusively as long as I've had sexual interests. You knew about a few." His eyes were luminous and searched my face for a reaction. "I had the biggest crush on you for the longest time, but I needed the friendship more. And I'm glad I did, because I really need you as my best friend."

_Breathe_. _Breathe!_

"Duo?"

I breathed; hot followed by cold tidal waves of shock washed over me. _Quatre_ _once had a thing for me? Wow, did that take courage to say._

"Ah, you sure know how to… shut me up. Man." I met his worried eyes with a smile. "Me? Really?"

His relief was instant and he nodded. "When Trowa came alongI made a choice, seeing the difference between how I felt about the two of you, and I noticed someone watching you and me, well, you mostly, trying to figure out our relationship."

"This someone has a name, Quatre, so you might as well use his name." A smile won over my mixed feelings, but then the sudden heat of blood flushing my face nearly unnerved me. "He told me when we went shopping. Ah, Heero did, but I'm not sure how he meant it."

Quatre grinned. "He said he _liked_ you? Did he? Well, that's great, isn't it? I mean, you like him too, right? You didn't tell him to go to hell, did you?"

"No, I—" I dropped the poker and wiped my hands on my jeans, "told him I'd think about it."

"Sounds like you have plenty to think about this week."

"No shit." I nodded and rubbed a sore knee, stretching it before standing. Quatre and Trowa were _boyfriends,_ Heero _liked_ me, I _liked_ Heero, Quatre and I needed _counseling_, Heero had had over a _year_ of counseling and discovered _his_ emotions. Yeah, I had plenty to think about.

"All right, but promise to really think about the therapy." Quatre patted my arm as he stood. He drew the curtains and gasped. I jumped to my feet and in a flash I stood gawking at the scene out the window.

"SNOW!"

Wufei strode from the kitchen. "Yes, and breakfast is ready."

"Food," Trowa muttered as he stumbled playfully down the stairs. "Food or I die."

"Move it," Heero said.

Heero shoved his friend forward, as Wufei pushed past them both and up the stairs.

"Where's he going?" Trowa asked.

I shrugged and dug out the silverware, tossed it in a pile on the table and fell into a chair alongside Heero. As we helped ourselves to the piles of sausages, eggs, and toast, Wufei pattered back downstairs. He dumped a bag at the door then rejoined us at the table. I wondered why he needed his sword. "Snow threaten you?"

"What? No." His eyes looked askance, avoiding mine. "You'll see. I came prepared for snow." A fleeting smile swept his face; it was almost evil.

(o)

We had a great time in the snow. Heero _had_ been doing perimeter checks, but for the best defensible positions for a snowball fight, and had a head start in the attack. Wufei _had _packed gear, but not weapons, just shovels and scrapers to clear paths and the cars. He had a fortress erected out of snow in no time. Trowa, Quatre and I got creamed. And soaked. We fired snowballs upon Wufei and Heero in strafing runs, bombarding them as best we could, and nearly beat down the resistance. Still, we were trapped and Quatre got cold so we stopped. His thin Arabian blood couldn't handle the cold as well as mine, a surprise.

I also turned over my gun to Wufei, promising not to steal it back. I had to sit in front of the fire braid undone, hair fanned out to dry, which Heero didn't seem to mind at all, since he sat and stared at it while Wufei prepared lunch.

"Is it my turn to cook dinner?" Quatre asked.

He was towel-drying his silky blonde hair and had changed into pale blue jeans the color of his eyes and a lemon yellow shirt. Yeah, I noticed the clothes he was wearing and even embellished the description that way in my head. Yeah, I learned that word "embellished"—as in "the back pockets of these jeans are embellished with rhinestones." And, no, I didn't buy those jeans.

"Yes," Heero said, "but Duo and I have made other plans."

Quatre smiled. "Good. I only bought enough fish for three." And then he winked.

End, It's a Vacation, Chapter Two.


	3. It’s a Vacation Chapter 3

**DEFYING GRAVITY**

**Part One:** **It's a Vacation**

**Chapter Three**

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Gundam Wing or its characters, nor do I make any monetary profit off this story.  
Warnings: 1x2x1, 3x4x3, AU, yaoi, some language  
--Kaeru Shisho 5/1/2007 14:49

* * *

I had straightened out everything in my head. Heero had needed a coat, and he took me clothes shopping because he was more fashion savvy than me and wanted to get Trowa off my case. He treated me to a meal, and then set up this dinner date as a way for me to pay for him and even-Steven things up. He told me he liked me because he did, as opposed to saying he couldn't stand me. I shouldn't expect any more of these outings after this. 

Man, I musta been loopy before to even consider this to be a romantic move on his part. He'd had counseling to open up, not to be able to declare love. And Quatre was a dreamy fool caught up in his own fantasies and seeing romance everywhere, whether it was there or not.

Heero snapped shut his laptop and stood. "We should go."

_Yeah, things were back to normal. "_So, how about pizza?" I asked.

"Hn." Heero let his watch fall backward on his wrist and grabbed a coat.

"And I drive, okay?"

I felt like piloting tonight, and I figured it was my turn to choose where we'd eat, even though it was he who had done the asking. That made it way less of a date, or so I kept telling myself. Heero graced me with a deadpan nod, and the car keys flew in the air, but not from Heero's direction.

"You'll have to take my car," Wufei pointed out. "It has chains."

Oh, yeah, snow. The roads were messy. "Maybe we should pick up some chains for your car?" I asked, but Heero shrugged. Was he totally disinterested or had he already taken care of the issue and I should just shut up about it and not offend him with my lame reminders? Hard to read that shrug, so I steered oblique. "Okay, in the morning."

"Out," he ordered me, and out I went, steering upright and direct this time. "You're the man. Out, yeah. Gotcha!"

He and I got along swell. Going out to eat pizza with Heero—what a ball! Especially the insane drivers swerving on the icy streets.

There were several pizza joints in town; I chose the one with the most crowded parking lot, the most popular, and, therefore, the best or cheapest food. I hadn't any idea what he liked, never having watched him eat pizza before. Heero never seemed to care what was put in front of him, but I asked as much to hear him talk as anything.

"So what toppings do you want?" I asked.

I can't tell you how weird it felt to be in a pizza parlor with just Heero. For one thing, there was no other place for that deadly glare to land but on me, where it was currently boring into my thick scull.

"Get what you want," he told me, and then he strode off to buy drinks.

I ordered two pizzas, one with meat and the other vegetarian, paid cash, and returned to our table with a parmesan cheese shaker in one hand and chili flakes in the other. While I waited on the pizza, I checked Heero's progress every few seconds. There was nothing warm and fuzzy about Heero. He walked like a soldier with his rigid posture, even in casual clothes. I liked the outline his wallet made in his back pocket, though, and blushed to think I'd been staring at his ass. My eyes slid to the face of the girl taking his order. She wasn't smiling. His clipped speech and abrupt manners gave the impression that he was arrogant and distant. Well, sometimes he was pretty hostile and cold, frosty like the pitcher he delivered to the table. It smelled cloying-familiar rather than malty-memorable.

"_Root _beer?" I whined.

"We will buy beer on the way home."

"Oh."

"You like soda."

Yes, I did and it was damned nice of him to have noticed. "Yeah, but it's bad for teeth," I said. His words to me on more than one occasion.

"The phosphorus damages bone growth," he said, delivering this cheery information as he poured me a mug full of bone-stunting, tooth decay.

"Thanks."

What? I'm polite. Okay, I'm also sarcastic. I dragged a finger through the condensation, drawing the droplets together until they ran off my mug, while I picked my brain for a more pleasant topic to discuss. I knew it would be up to me to carry both sides of our conversation if I didn't choose something that interested him. I'd never known Heero to hold with idle banter.

Heero loved to talk about cars; so did I, making it a good place to start. I asked him about the car he was saving his pennies to buy. His face lit up and he talked at length and in agonizing detail. It occurred to me that it was almost a sensual thing, and certainly passionate. It was a turn-on- as if I needed another one- so we talked about cars until I mentioned "chains for the tires" and the fountain of enthusiasm dried up.

He brushed the hair out of his eyes with a gesture that in a woman would have seemed flirtatious, but on Heero was nothing more than the wish to get his hair out of his face. I had the strangest desire to reach out and run my fingers through that dark mop. A wave of relief swept over me when the pizza arrived and I had something else to absorb my attention.

Deny, deny, deny— I could not deny that I had a full-blown infatuation going on.

(o)

"Stop at the grocery store," Heero said.

"Right. Besides beer, know what you want to get?"

"Yes."

_Naturally._

Heero swept through the store dropping selections into a hand basket with matchless speed and efficiency. He'd probably downloaded architectural plans and mapped out the shortest route the night before. He checked his watch.

"Get in line. I have one more stop to make." Aware, possibly that he had been ordering me around, he added in a gentler tone, "It will get us out of here faster, if you do that."

"Right!"

I grinned and bobbed on over to the checkout with time to pick out some gum. Remember how I thought I'd seen the last of the banana man, Gill the Groper? He ran into me in the checkout line. Same grocery store. Same clerk. Same asshole. Different antisocial friend MIA someplace else in the store.

"Hey, it's Duo. Niiiice jeans. Lose the Chinese boyfriend? He was one severe dude."

"What? No! I mean, there's a bunch of us guys renting a cabin and he's just one of them."

"Cool, so, ah, you with …ah… or…? I'm not making you nervous or anything, am I?"

Instantly, Heero loomed beside us. "Trouble?"

"Ah, no," I muttered, although I'd hedge any bet that there soon would be. "This is Gill—"

"Hey, yeah. Duo here shot me with a banana couple days ago."

"He bought the beer I dropped," I explained to Heero, whose scowl darkened.

"Yeah, too bad about that. I wanted to replace it, but that Chinese dude was in a hurry. Hey, I could buy that case for ya."

"That won't be necessary," Heero said.

Gill's eyes scanned Heero and the pair of six-packs he was carrying with ease in one hand and basket of groceries in the other. I had the feeling Gill was a lonely guy, or at least desperate, since he chose to ignore the obvious body language: Heero was about to kill him.

Gill leaned into me, cramming me into the counter as his lips brushed my ear before I could twist away. "Invite me over?" he whispered.

I had been slow on the uptake, because I had been watching Heero's reactions. Oh, he heard Gill, and what Gill had said was not to Heero's liking; it was clear from his adamantine look: his mouth set like marble below eyes cut from glistening shards of sapphire. He looked resolute and unbending. When Gill let out a kind of shocking squeak, I looked down where his eyes seemed transfixed. Heero's thumb had bent the metal handle of his basket into the letter "C".

"Maybelater," Gill said in a rush of words, and dashed out the door, his one grocery item forgotten.

"Guess it _wasn't_ my clothes," I muttered. "And you didn't need to do that; intimidate him that way. I had everything under control."

Heero turned his blue gaze on me. "You are too…" he began, then paused, and I swear he said something different than what he had originally planned, "… too open."

"I'm social."

"Hn."

That issue settled, we both ponied up some cash to pay, and left as quickly as possible.

(o)

All our buddies were ensconced around the TV, waiting for me to settle before starting the next movie. I had volunteered to stoke the fire. This activity probably "redirected my pyrotechnic tendencies in a constructive manner," or so 'Fei had declared, as if it were fact. As I made an appearance from the out-of-doors, four pairs of eyes were on me.

"What's up?" I asked, kicking the door closed with a snow-encrusted boot, my arms loaded with firewood.

"We decided to all go skiing tomorrow," Quatre announced.

_You _have, I thought. "Never tried." How could I afford the lodge food, the lift tickets, the equipment rentals, or the time?

"Oh, you'll learn quickly, and Heero can teach you," Quatre said lightly.

Wufei looked from Heero to me to Quatre, uncomprehendingly. "You are the more patient teacher and the superior skier, Winner, making you the obvious choice to instruct Maxwell."

Quatre looked sheepish. Quatre looking sheepish with that endearing smile on his face was also Quatre looking charming. "But Heero already volunteered," he said with a matching, appealing shrug.

I looked askance and caught Heero glaring at Quatre, Wufei, and anyone else in his line of sight. If my arms hadn't been burdened with a forest of timber, I just might have hit him, any or all of the "hims."

"I'll think about it," I bit off.

I labored over the fire more vigorously than was called for, but it worked to silence the discussion. Why was Quatre pushing Heero into interacting with me? Didn't he think Heero was capable on his own? Or me? There wasn't any "us" to begin with. Maybe everything was just conjecture and misdirection up to this point. I certainly didn't want Heero forced into giving me ski lessons!

By the time I was ready to join them, the plans had been set, the discussion over, and Trowa was slipping in a DVD and adjusting the volume.

"Whatcha got?" I asked him.

"Something with action, Kung-fu fighting so Chang will have something to rip apart, and no sex. Can't take that hetero sap."

"That all?"

"Either that or some gothic romance crap Quatre picked out."

"Hey! 'Pride and Prejudice' won an award!"

My bud was only pretending to be offended, though, because at the same time Quatre scooted over the couch, patting a spot, inviting me to sit beside him. I collapsed at the far end with a put-upon sigh, and the real show began. Heero, who had been stretched out on the floor, rose and slipped onto the arm of the couch, a hand's breadth away from me. I felt the couch decompress, and Quatre shimmied further away from _moi._ I heard him murmur over his shoulder, and Trowa parted his legs making space for Quatre to cozy up close. He proceeded to make himself comfortable, draping himself over Trowa's chest and legs. Wufei settled lower into the oversized, stuffed armchair, crossing his legs at the ankles on the ottoman. I felt Heero's eyes on me and got the hint, so I moved over into the warm spot Quatre had vacated, leaving space for Heero to sit in comfort. Heero sprawled out, his thighs touching mine.

Okay, so this was no big deal ordinarily, but somewhere along the line my libido kicked in. I'd been thinking a lot about male bodies, groping males, over-protective males, and Heero. I could hear his breathing. He swallowed. My heart pounded and my ears started ringing. I was itching to rub my sweaty palms on the nearest not-belonging-to-me leg.

_Damn. _

I'd had Heero to myself for hours before and I was okay then, but now, surrounded by our friends, I had these cravings. I squirmed and shuffled my feet, disturbing Wufei enough that he glanced my way. He wasn't lounging comfortably; he was posed enticingly, his expression wrapped in mystery. He raised an eyebrow provocatively and I swallowed hard.

_For the love of... _

I looked away, fearing my face might give away my thoughts, my eyes resting on Trowa's long arm wrapped possessively around Quatre's shoulder, massaging the muscles underneath. The motion was slow, hypnotic. A hitch in my breath drew Trowa's attention. From beneath overhanging bangs, bewitching eyes tempted me to join in, and his mouth wore a beguiling smile.

_Shit. _

I dropped my eyes and tucked my hands under my arms to stop them from trembling. When Quatre moaned, I felt heat shoot across my torso and settle in my groin. One peek and I saw my best bud in three-quarter profile, the angle of light eclipsing a portion of his face, highlighting the silky, gold hair and accentuating his straight nose. His chin was raised, lips parted slightly, alluringly. I cleared my constricting throat.

_Fuck. _

I squeezed my eyes shut. Heero's thigh was searing mine along the few inches of contact. My pants started to tent and soon I wouldn't be able to hide my woody at all. I didn't want to stick around and hear Heero's laconic responses to my ongoing conversation or be compelled to hate myself for saying or doing something embarrassing, so I stood abruptly with the excuse "not feeling well," and stalked off, leaving the circle of friends and torment for a little while. Whether or not he noticed my hard-on, I hoped Heero would stop Quatre from "checking on me," and leave me in peace.

It was a long time before I fell asleep. I simply lay in my darkening room, staring into the gloom with images of Heero flooding my mind. Gods, I was totally infatuated with him.

Boys didn't _love_ other boys. There was sex, but in the mind of adolescents, sex was divorced from love. Love was what happily married couples shared. Your mother and father might be in love, but the idea of them having sex seemed unimaginable. Sex was physical release, the urging of the body. Now my body was urgent. Those hormones had finally caught up with me, and I was in a daze of heat, my mind swimming with erotic images, which were sharpening, becoming increasingly more tangible. Unfortunately for me, they were fixating on the emotionally-damaged Heero Yuy.

The memories of the dinner came back hotter and sharper: ordering the root beer, his body, with its shoulders broadening out, his legs muscled, his pants slightly snug across his hip, and what they had outlined. Then I dressed him in skin-tight ski wear, and I swear I moaned.

Now, I knew with a cold rationality at the back of my mind that the situation my over-heated imagination was beginning to set up belonged to the world of fantasy. What was I to do? I was really, seriously, fighting my better instincts. A guy who dreamed about another guy and got really, really aroused, was in serious trouble and was most likely doomed to bring down a whole shitload more on his head.

What could I do? I could sleep it off, and that is what I did.

(o)

"Bundle up and let's go," Wufei ordered me for the second time. "You can sulk in the lodge there as well as here."

"Not sulking," I said, and to prove it, I wrenched my languid body off the couch and followed him out and into the car.

Skiing, that was the plan. Actually, by the time we got to the lodge and lift, I was cheerful again. There were lots of guys and girls our age carrying an assortment of snow toys, one, a red-haired boy with a face-full of freckles, had a snowboard. _That_ looked interesting.

"Maxwell! Quit ogling the boys and come over here!"

Yes, he said that aloud. Loud enough to turn heads, I might add. There are times I could just kill Trowa.

"I'm not skiing," I announced. After his crack I was in no mood to be accommodating. I know, I sounded as peevish as I felt.

"What about cross country?" Heero's voice was low and soft over my shoulder.

I found myself examining the map of trails and prices for equipment rentals. Compared to any of the other skiing options, it was reasonably priced. "Yeah, I could do that."

"Okay," Quatre said with evident relief. "We'll go our own ways until noon, then meet back for lunch together and then decide what to do after eating."

We left the plans as is, and Trowa, Wufei, and my bud ran to the next rental line. It was nice of Heero to suggest the alternate, I thought. But now he was staring after them longing to join them.

"Hey, go on. You'd rather go ski. I can amuse myself. Don't worry 'bout me. I can do just fine—"

"Shut up. I hate skiing. Pointless."

Okay. It was nice and thoughtful of him to keep me company then. Four hours of exercise in the clear, fresh, cold air, being pushed to the max to complete the entire grueling, twenty mile trail in record time with the perfect soldier. Who wouldn't be excited? It sounded punishing, but better than having him as a ski instructor.

I thought we'd never get started. Heero demanded to choose the skis and poles, but only after a detailed examination.

"Hey, it's not like our lives depend on this equipment," I told him. "It'll be lunch time before we get out of here."

Heero smiled guiltily. It was an odd expression on his face. "You are right. My cursory inspection shows no dangerous flaws. These will do."

A guide snowmobile-ed Heero and me to the trail head. It appeared we were the only ones to attempt this particular trail today. "It's a tough one with the fresh snow. I wouldn't recommend it, but you say you're experienced," he said. "Tell you what, if you get to the last marker and carry it back, I'll return the fee."

"All of it?" I asked.

"Yeah, sure," he said, and left us reluctantly to face our doom.

Heero smiled. "He doubts us."

I returned it. "Yep! Think he meant that as a challenge?"

"He doesn't recognize who we are." Heero shook his head.

"Too bad for him."

Heero strapped on the short, broad skis and set out, point man. I was rear guard. The guide had been right about the surface conditions. The soft stuff made slow going at the beginning, but we hit a long flat stretch and kicked ass. Well, I watched Heero's ass for an hour or so, anyway.

We paused at a particularly scenic outlook. "Look over there," I pointed.

A doe and her young bounded by, knocking clumps of snow off a tree limb. Heero studied the animals, the trees-cape, and the sky. I wondered what he thought. Did he write poetry in his head? More likely, he cataloged the species and atmospheric conditions for future access.

I rambled on about some mission we'd shared with a ruined machine installation instead of trees and enemies rather than deer, but otherwise how much the view was similar.

"We were at a much higher altitude at the time."

"Yeah, but it was pretty, all clean and glittery."

"You are odd," he said. A phantom smile graced his face for an instant.

I like to think he meant "extraordinary." I couldn't help but wonder what he felt surrounded by all this beauty. He couldn't be totally unaffected. I found out around the next turn.

I didn't see him ahead, but it was a curve and he'd probably raced on ahead to make up for the seconds lost deer observing. I crouched and skidded beneath an arbor of overhanging branches, thinking about how good it felt to be outside exerting myself, when an avalanche hit me on the back. Okay, not that much snow, but it shocked me. Some caught in my collar and melted, trickling icy cold water down my neck. At my elbow, Heero stood wearing a smug smile. He wiggled a branch, dusting my head with more snow. He had played a practical joke one me. Ha. Ha.

"Idiot!" I snapped.

"Baka," he corrected in Japanese. "We are behind schedule."

"I didn't know we had one," I said.

His hand appeared in front of my face and he smoothed a few strands of my hair. Snow fell from his hands. It was the lightest of touches, but it shook me as much as a deliberate punch would have. And then he moved off.

We were back to the course, pushing ourselves to cover the miles at top speed. I needed the stretch, the burn. Exhilarating. No thirty pound packs of ammo, tech toys, and rations on my back. No flying shells, exploding bombs, or ricocheting bullets, or searing laser near misses either. Just two guys and nature.

Sometimes too much nature, like when we found a deep drift, up to our necks, and again when we had to plow a path for few hundred feet in thigh-deep snow. Heero offered me a hand and I gave him a push and together we conquered the slopes and valleys. Man, it felt great! I missed having a partner to watch my back and, at times, for the company. Trowa was Heero's partner at work, Wufei was Quatre's, and I did what would be suicide missions for anyone else, always alone. Any other way would have been too great a risk.

"Marker in sight," Heero declared.

This was effectively an announcement for a race to the finish. I'm actually quicker than him, but in the long run his endurance tops mine. To win, I needed to slow him down. We were shoulder to shoulder, with him about to pull away, when I jumped, tackling him around the waist. He lost his balance and his feet slipped from under him. Down we went, colliding, rolling less than gracefully with cross-country skis snagging snow-hidden twigs, rocks, and buried logs. It was that buried log that stopped us.

We just lay there, me on top, pinning Heero to the ground. He was panting, so I knew I hadn't knocked his breath out. I didn't want to get up. Holding Heero was a braining-stunning experience. His body was slender and solid. I knew it was; I'd stared at him enough to know that, but feeling him writhing in my grasp was incredibly exciting and so totally out of the ordinary. I considered slipping a hand beneath the layers of outerwear and touching his skin. Yeah, I wanted skin-to-skin contact.

"Careful. Your braid's caught," he warned me, his breath hot on my chilled earlobe.

Stupidly, I reached up to yank on the braid, and he rolled free. It was "caught" all right. Heero had looped the end around a piece of tree limb. So much for the sexy squirming.

While I untangled my braid from a branch stub, Heero raced onwards to the goal. _Shit!_ I yanked hard to break free and left a few pieces of hair behind. I hadn't needed to have pulled at it so zealously, because with his head start he was sure to get there first. I didn't care. I had something new to think about. I wanted to hold Heero again, and soon.

When I caught up with him, he was just standing, studying the marker.

"Take it!" I shouted.

"The flag is attached to this flexible, steel rod, which is embedded into a solid-granite boulder. I can't pull it out. Opinion."

"Heh, heh… So, the dude gambled on us not making it this far to discover his trick. Oh, just break it off. You _know_ you want to do it," I told him, grinning.

Heero nodded and snapped the steel rebar with one hand.

"All right. Last mile to go with our banner flying in the face of our faithless guide!" I cried out.

We flew across the icy path right up to the pickup point singing and waving the flag, my singing and Heero's waving. I don't know what was better, the look on that guy's face when we handed over the broken-off flag or getting our money back. Okay, right, the money, but that guy's expression was funny. We destroyed his day, I think.

After turning in our equipment and pocketing our winnings, Heero and I sauntered over to the dining room. We were early enough to secure a large table near a window, place hot drink orders—me coffee and Heero tea—and stare out at the view.

"Look at that," I said. "That's what we do next."

Heero watched the kids bouncing and crashing down the slope on giant inner tubes. "Tubing."

"Oh yeah? You done it before?"

"No, but I thought you might like it." Heero fanned brochures onto the table, picked one and read: "'Tubing, also known as inner tubing, is the recreational activity of riding an inner tube on snow. The tubes are also known as 'donuts' or 'biscuits' due to their shape. Our resort's 'tubing hill' is a groomed hillside, smooth and slippery, with a convenient tube-tow lift-system that attaches to the tube for transport up to the top. Descend individually, in tandems, or group clusters where the speeds are the highest and the run-outs the longest.'"

"I gotta do that," I said, enthralled by the view of the "tubers."

"Well, Maxwell looks happy." Trowa folded his arms across his waist and gazed down at me and Heero from under his long hank of bangs.

"Yeah, we had fun and it was free!" I was excited.

Quatre slid into the chair beside mine. "Tell, tell!"

Wufei and Trowa found chairs and rounded out the table. I told the story without Heero adding in extras until the waitress lit on us like a fly on fresh shit. She started flirting atrociously and taking overlong to get our order straight. Trowa leaned across the table, grasped Quatre's head with both hands and gave him a wet, open-mouthed kiss. The waitress fought back a cry, sucked up her pride, and completed Wufei's order without further delay.

When she scurried off, 'Fei said, "Next time, do that sooner rather than later."

I thought that was hilarious and laughed until I cried. I was on an upward moving mood swing, I guess. I did quiet down and wipe my eyes and sip some water before the food arrived, by which time Fei looked like he wished to be anyplace but where he was, and Heero was stiff, staring out the window.

"So, after lunch," Quatre began, having survived the deeply embarrassing incident sufficiently to speak again. "Anyone have an idea what we should do?"

"Duo wants everyone to go tubing," Heero said, then explained what that entailed.

Wufei was the first to balk. "It's for kids."

"Ah, guess what, Fei-man, we _are_ kids."

"Don't be condescending," he told me with a deepening scowl.

"Sounds fun and dangerous," Trowa mused. "Okay with me."

"We could try it." Quatre smiled wanly.

Heero glared at Wufei until he gave in. "One time."

So we got this ride to the top of the hill and from there, we rocketed down in our large, inflated donuts with an adrenalin buzz that I guarantee would put a huge smile on anyone's face. I know this because it made Wufei grin, his face shiny and red, and he was first to hook up and take the motorized pulley towline to the top for the next run.

"The low friction between the rubber and the snow means the tubes reach impressive speeds on these steep slopes." When Heero strung that many words together, you knew he was excited, too.

Speed is good, real good. However, because of the circular shape of snow tubes, controlling the course and speed of a tube while riding on snow was tricky business.

"Try using your arms to steer," Quatre suggested. "I remember when sledding that the rider would drag his arms on the snow to brake or steer, to a degree."

Sounded good, but attempting this on a tube mostly made the tube spin. We failed in our first attempts, but we were not like the average kids tubing. Our physical conditioning and battle-refined skills put us in another league altogether. Without noticing what was going on around us, the five of us proceeded to test the limits of our crafts. Heero was first to puncture his and had to lug the heavy, deflated tube back to the office and collect a new one. Wufei and Quatre contented themselves accruing the fastest speed records, while Trowa and I doggedly struggled to _channel _the course. We also invented a group cluster technique, grabbing onto one tube and propelling it ahead at jet speed, or sending it spinning dizzily if the launch went wrong.

What we didn't notice, but Heero observed, when he reappeared at the mountain top with his new tube, was that we had garnered an audience and fan club. Our activity drew a crowd and made the other kids attempt more daring moves than they had any business trying. This lack of control could lead to injuries, some serious, if the riders struck obstacles such as trees while tubing on snow. Heero realized this at the same moment one of the tubes hopped the barrier.

The course used fencing-like barriers on the periphery to guide the tubes along a safe course separate from the skiers. These worked great, until a bunch of idiots tried to imitate what we were doing and gang-crashed the barricade like a log-jam on a mill-race.

I heard Heero's shout and wrenched around. He shot off the top of the hill, blasting-off down on the wrong side of the barrier.

_Why was he doing that?_

Then I saw the red-headed, freckled-faced kid on a tube flying over two others, skimming over the barrier, and racing in a direct line for a clump of trees. This I discerned in a fraction of a microsecond, while altering my own course in hot pursuit of the runaway donut. From my calculations, and I could triangulate moving positions in my head faster than a computer, Heero was going to hit the trees first, possibly providing a cushion for the other kid. He was going to sacrifice himself for that kid, I knew it. I also knew that he figured he had a far better chance of avoiding serious injury and surviving- I also knew that I couldn't let him do that.

I'd had a few trips more down the track than Heero and could alter my direction with more precision. If I could maintain my speed, I could cut them both off. The wind was screaming past my ears, blocking the sounds of the onlookers, which was a really good thing because I didn't need distractions.

I remember streaking by the runaway donut, or nearly. Our tubes collided. His, being the heavier was only slightly diverted off course, but it was just enough to plow into a snowdrift and miss the trees; mine, being the lighter, absorbed most of the momentum. I bounced, let go, flew, and hit the ice-packed snow in a roll, but then I skidded into a snow-covered outcropping of rock hard enough to knock me out. I found out later that my loose tube bumped Heero's just enough to alter his course. Heero had glided past—a few nanoseconds away from sideswiping my prone body—coming to rest a few feet from the other kid, safely by the drift. Next I knew, I was blinking up at Heero's face, flat on my back in the snow.

"Status?" he demanded

"Er, okay, I guess," I said. "Head hurts."

"It will do that when it contacts a rock with force. Ribs?"

"Yeah, can I have an order of fries and a beer to go with that?" I was a funny guy.

Heero smiled. Briefly. "You must be okay. Can you stand?"

"Sure…eh…no."

One leg collapsed when I attempted to get my feet under me. Heero wrapped an arm around me and yanked me to my feet, me groaning all the way like a baby. About that time, a snowmobile swooshed up with a medic on board. Heero insisted that he be allowed to come along, so I had to sit on his lap in his firm grip all the way to the resort's EM clinic. It was just terrible, heh, heh.

(o)

"Hell no, you aren't cutting up these pants; I just bought them!" I yelled.

"We need to get you into x-ray, Mr. Maxwell."

"He will remove them," Heero said.

Actually, Heero helped me out of my pants. I was kinda woozy after my little outburst, but, shit, those pants cost me half a days pay! I must have been out of it because I wasn't the least bit timid to have him there. Quatre streaked into the triage center about that time.

"Duo! Oh! You are all right. We've been so worried."

His earnest eyes were about one inch from my face, his hands on my shoulders ready to embrace me, if I told him my ribs weren't broken. You'da thought I was his girlfriend.

"Mild concussion, mild contusions, the expected bruises, and a sprained or broken ankle," Heero told him. "He's going into x-ray. Stay with him while I purchase some sweatpants."

Quatre nodded, "Of course," then turned back to me, burying his face in my chest and blurbling something to the effect of "Don't do that to us again. You nearly hit those trees. You take chances attempting the most dangerous stunts and…and…you have to stop!"

Heero frowned and pulled Quatre off me more forcefully than necessary, I thought. "He saved the boy with only minor injury to himself. It was a calculated risk I was ready to take also. I'll get Chang to accompany him if you can't shut up."

_Whoa… Heero supporting me, and against my bud too?_

I had only a moment to exchange an appreciative glance at Heero before the medic rolled my gurney away. I'd really enjoyed the anonymity of this resort town, so far. No one knowing who we were, when all five of us were together, was rare. Well, that was over now. The gig was up. Five ex-Gundam pilots, heroes/murders, in one place—one of us was bound to be recognized.

We were ready to go back to the cabin with a splint, crutches, a bag of pain killers I knew wouldn't work on my pumped-up system, and a five page list of instructions, which Heero scanned and tossed before we left the examination room. This was nothing as far as injuries were concerned, but it would sorta put a glitch in my back-to-work plans.

Heero, Trowa and I were waiting on Wufei and Quatre. "What's the hold up?" I asked for the third time.

Trowa and Heero shrugged in concert, a silent duet.

"Hey, I'm going out that door crawling if I have to, but I'm not waiting any longer!" I trumpeted.

"You will wait until Winner has diverted the press and Chang has our transportation at the rear exit, and you will wait patiently."

"You are no fun, Tro-baby," I grumbled.

"That's not what the Q-man tells me, D-bro." Trowa's smile was more of a leer.

"He's just easily impressed by your dirty talk. He led a very sheltered life before the war."

Of course, that was all changed by the war. Of course, Trowa was now aware of what Quatre had gone through, and, of course, he knew I was just yakking to keep busy, but he was on a mission to rectify my boredom by being an asshole.

"I'll take care of him just fine, or is that what's bothering you—jealous? I got something you want?"

I swear Heero tensed, his hands fisting as if to strangle Trowa. I wasn't envious of what Quatre and Trowa had going. Quatre was not a love interest, nor was Trowa, but Heero's reaction made me wonder if he was resentful of my close friendship with the two of them. That was nuts. Heero's limited emotions wouldn't include anything as mundane as jealousy. No, he was more likely to be fed up with our arguing.

"You ain't got nothing I want," I laughed. "Except two good legs. Damn, my head's pounding. Can't we go yet? If I gotta hang here any longer, I'm gonna start singing."

Starting with songs from my childhood and moving to the latest hip-hop melodies, it would be my opus.

Trowa's eyes were wide, visible, and panicky. "Do something, Yuy."

"He sings well," Heero said.

Yeah, and he'd only heard me on the slopes! Sadly, my concert was cut short. Quatre bounced into the hall where we were hiding, all smiles.

"Good news! Wufei's at the back door and the press thinks we're having a conference out front. Let's move out!" he fluted.

No show for the paparazzi; performance canceled. We rushed the backdoor, where there was no enemy encampment. Heero loaded the trunk with a large bag and the crutches, while Quatre barked out seating instructions. I was to sprawl across the backseat, legs strewn across Heero's lap and head on Quatre's. I was in no position to argue, too drained to care any more. I did ask Heero about the bag in the back and was surprised when he avoided my eyes and gave me the "hn" anwswer.

Wanna know why? Oh, yeah, Heero bought the cross country equipment using the returned fee – his and _mine_. He took _my_ money from my wallet while I was in x-ray, without asking! Wufei agreed that it was the honorable thing to do since it had been an unfair contest. We hadn't disclosed our identities, which meant that we cheated, and, now that the truth was out, it would be a serious breach of "code"—whose code I don't know—to keep the fraudulently acquired winnings. I was pissed enough to forget about how much I hurt all over, and my head ached enough to reduce my reaction to just giving them both the finger.

End, It's a Vacation, Chapter Three.


	4. It’s a Vacation Chapter 4

**DEFYING GRAVITY**

**Part One:** **It's a Vacation**

**Chapter Four**

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Gundam Wing or its characters, nor do I make any monetary profit off this story.  
Warnings: 1x2x1, 3x4x3, AU, yaoi, some language  
--Kaeru Shisho 5/1/2007 14:49

* * *

I remember hobbling into the cabin, languishing about on the couch in front of the fire for maybe five minutes, enough to down a couple of those lion tranquilizers Trowa carried in his med kit, and then I slept the dreamless sleep of the dead for the next sixteen hours. When I awoke, I was aware of my empty stomach and that I was not in my upstairs bed. There was a pillow under my head and a blanket tucked around me. Next, I felt all my bruises and strains and a draft. 

Trowa pushed open the door with one arm, the other cradling a sack of groceries. Wufei stomped snow off his boots, kicked them to the side, and slammed the door with one foot. He shifted both sacks in his arms and looked around the room, locating me. I waved languidly from my post on the couch.

With a wry note Wufei said, "Supply mission complete without incident. It can be done. Oh, Maxwell, I see you are awake."

"Yes."

"Give him his message," Trowa said as he dumped his bag on the kitchen table.

"What?" I asked. I was disabled and bored. Anything sounded intriguing at the moment.

"Nothing," 'Fei said with a frown. "Go back to sleep or whatever."

"Ah, come on 'Fei. Give me a little excitement here. I'm dyin'," I whined and grinned simultaneously.

Trowa stepped up. "If you won't tell him, I will."

Wufei glared at us both. "Drop it."

Trowa folded his arms over his chest and stared directly into my eyes. This was rare. He generally hid shyly behind his long bangs. I thought it gave him an air of mystery, though, and found him more fascinating sometimes than I wanted to admit. This was one of those times the mystery would have been better kept hidden. I could feel the heat creep up my neck. He knew about me and how I felt about Heero. He knew and he wanted me to admit it, just as he and Quatre had "come out" to us. He was unmoved by what others thought of him, I guess, but I wasn't. Well, I was stubborn and if merciless OZ interrogators couldn't force me to talk against my will, he certainly couldn't. I worked up a resolute edge to my stare and his mouth turned up. It was his damned evil little smile.

"We ran into a friend of yours."

I shrugged. "Oh."

Heero descended the stairs carrying his laptop. I liked the way his hair stood out where he'd obviously been towel drying it and given up on arranging it neatly. He was scrubbed and shiny and very broody. I guess I thought all that added up to "sexy," while Trowa was "mysterious," and Quatre's features added up to "cute." I stopped with 'Fei. I didn't like categorizing my friends this way, so I threw an arm over my face, and shut down my brain.

Trowa raised his voice, thinking he's lost my interest, which was true. "He recognized Chang here. Hoped you were still in town."

My stomach tightened into a painful ball and ached. _Shut the fuck up!_

"_Gill _sends his regards."

It's a good thing I wasn't armed or able to move fast, because I would have committed murder about then. I could hear Trowa chuckle once as he disappeared in the direction of the stairway.

"Better make a move before you miss out," I heard him mutter in Heero's ear as they passed each other.

I sank further into the pillows, drawing the blanket over my head and wishing Quatre was around to kick him in the ass for me. A rough shake to my shoulder brought me out of hiding. "Fuck off."

"Maxwell." It was Wufei.

"Oh, sorry. Trowa's getting on my nerves."

"Mine as well. I wasn't offended. Here, I bought you some entertainment."

"Books? Hey, thanks. So many? Now I'll need bookends!" I laughed.

"I remember you saying you read when you were alone in space."

"That's right. Loners. No place to store them then, but we have bookcases in the dorm now. I've never read any of these. Thanks, really."

"I recommend you begin with this one," he said pointing to the top book.

"You've read these?"

"I have my own copies, which I've read numerous times. We can discuss them, if you'd like."

"Yeah, I'd like that. Thanks again."

He nodded and returned to the kitchen where he was putting away the purchases and preparing lunch. I'd actually forgotten about Heero for a good five minutes, but was reminded of his alert presence when he stepped around the couch, sat on the stuffed chair, and whipped open his laptop.

"I thought you might want to check your email."

"Sure, thanks." I placed my books on the floor and straightened on the couch, my legs lying lengthwise across the entire seat. The enormity of the situation occurred to me when he rested the computer on my lap: Heero was sharing his computer with someone else—me. This was his personal space as much as his hands or feet or mind.

"Battery is fully charged."

"I see that," I said, while locating the internet icon. He was hovering.

"Ah, Heero? I promise not to screw up your computer. You know, download viruses or peek in your files, okay?"

He got the message and backed off. "It's secured. I wasn't worried," he said just a bit too quickly for me to believe.

I waited for him to walk away and visit Wufei before reading my messages. Most of them were work-related, the infernal passing the info and the buck "CC: MaxwellD, FYI". There were a few Viagra ads that somehow slipped past the spam filter; I deleted them without a second thought. That was a product I didn't need! I was only interested in one message. It was from Heero. He had sent it only minutes ago and I had to smile. It read: movie out 2nite?

At least he posed it as a question this time. It was clearly more date-like than the other invitations, and I didn't know how I felt about that. I could explain shopping and dinner that followed and the even-the-score dinner after that as just two friends reconnecting. Would just the two of us going out to a movie still be considered platonic by our friends? Surely not by Trowa. He was keen on Heero making moves on me, if only to justify his own moves on my best bud. Okay, so I was vacillating between lusting over Heero and wishing I didn't. I just wanted to be normal, you know?

What was important at the moment was deciding what message I wanted to send Heero. As attracted to him as I was, I was afraid of charging ahead into the unknown or into a _known_ I wasn't ready to face. That would be admitting I liked another guy and making it public knowledge. Shit, for all I knew Heero was just horny and I turned him on. I still held to the hope that I could combat this inclination of mine if I didn't continue to feed the fires, so to speak. On the other hand, I might get a chance to feel Heero close to me. I was torn and I hated being so indecisive. It made me angry.

I typed my reply and pressed "send", shutdown the computer, and pushed it to the end of the couch. I was stiff and sore and furious at myself for being everything I hated. I didn't want to deal with anyone, so I wrapped up in the blanket and turned around, facing the back of the couch. _Incommunicado._

I ignored Heero's return and missed him leaving the room, but later at lunch I didn't miss the look of disappointment in his eyes when he caught mine briefly.

"I'm not feeling great," I said, leaving the table to grab one of Wufei's book gifts and painfully hobble-crawled up the stairs to my room, where I remained until the next day.

(o)

Quatre and Trowa were gone when I ventured downstairs. I was starving, having scarcely eaten lunch and skipped dinner and currently this day's breakfast. Heero was at the kitchen table and my heart sank into my toes. He was typing on his laptop looking for recipes, I guessed, because he paused to stare at the website: cooking .com.

"Hey," I said in greeting. "You're on lunch duty?"

"Yes." He slammed the laptop closed. "You are listed for dinner, but there is nothing to cook. If you have a suggestion, I'll make the purchases when Chang and I go out later."

His voice was calm, but with a brittle edge I hadn't heard used around the cabin. I knew for positive that I had hurt his feelings. That meant he had feelings to hurt. Of all people, he was the last person I wanted to punish so I could assert my manhood.

"Um, I'm feeling better today. How about I talk 'Fei into trading dinner duties and you and I go out? We can catch that movie afterwards?"

He smiled. My breath caught in my throat.

"I'll convince him, even if I have to trade for all his cooking assignments."

The door flung open and in burst Quatre leading Trowa by the hand. "Hiya!"

"Yo, bud," I said. My mood was wavering on good, but unsettled.

"We bought games!" Quatre announced.

"And a Wii," Trowa added. "Plus five controllers."

"Five?" Wufei asked. He could hardly contain his excitement, but where he'd materialized from, I had no idea.

"It'll take a minute to set up," Quatre said.

The paper bags were ripped; boxes were stroked then opened reverently. Five eager pairs of hands strove to assemble the parts.

"Enough!" Quatre cried out. "Too many people here! Heero, why don't you bring lunch in for everyone? Wufei, you can open the games, while Trowa, ah… stop fooling around with the TV and help your partner in the kitchen, and I'll line up the controllers. Duo, you watch and give advice. See? Isn't more fun when it's all organized and not so chaotic?"

"No!" I shouted, but then so did everyone else.

Still, we did as he told us and soon we were eating sandwiches and playing tennis, the kind I could do with a bum leg and sore arm. By the time we noticed it was dark, dinner wasn't started, and there was no food to cook, we were hungry and impatient. Heero appeared uncertain what to say, so I did the honors.

"Listen, 'Ro and I were thinking about going to dinner and trading with 'Fei-man…"

"So we'll all go!" Quatre concluded. "That's a great idea. We need a break here and Trowa and I found the nicest Italian restaurant."

I exchanged unreadable glances with Heero, but it was too late, everyone was putting on coats and shoes. It was just as well. I felt relieved not to have to stress out about going on a date. I felt his presence at my side and turned a little his way. He extended his arm, holding out the crutches for me.

"Tommorrow?"

I nodded, unable to bring myself to talk. My hands were sweating and my heart pounding. It was ridiculous. Every time I reined in my imagination and could think rationally about him, my body would go haywire. As I put my weight on the crutches I leaned into him slightly, enough to feel the heat radiating from his chest and smell his aftershave. He steadied me with a bruising grip on my elbow.

"Okay?" he asked.

"Um, yeah. Clumsy me! Heh, heh—"

I got a strange expression as a reward for my inane performance.

"Here's your coat, Duo!" Quatre reminded me, while thrusting a knit hat over my head.

"Hey! I can't do all this at once."

Heero held the crutches and I jabbed my arms into the sleeves. I was getting better at balancing on one foot and dressing.

"All right. Let's get out of here."

I was shoe-horned into the front seat. Trowa drove with Quatre wedged in back like the meat in a Wufei-Heero sandwich. The town looked ethereal blanketed in a thick layer of snow. The snow plows had cleared the main roads piling up mountainous drifts at the sides, but the side streets were ice-slick, treacherous, and absolutely required chains. The businesses strung tiny lights in the windows, brightening the otherwise gloomy store fronts.

"Snowmobile would be fun," I said. "Is that the place?"

"Snowmobile would be practical," Trowa said. "That was _his_ place."

"No Italian?"

"Trowa! You passed the restaurant!" Quatre cried out from the backseat.

"Correct." Trowa dipped his head and drove past the Italian restaurant.

"You can turn around at the next intersection," Quatre said, and settled back in his seat.

"You're not going to, are you?" I asked.

"No."

"Going to tell the Q-man where we're going?"

Trowa shook his head wearing a tight smile. "No. He needs surprises."

"He does? Mr. Director/CEO? Okay, your funeral."

"Trowa! That was where you should have turned!"

"Winner, he's not going where you thought. Forget it." Wufei sighed, sounding put upon and scrunching into the door as far away from Quatre as possible.

After a few silent minutes, Quatre asked, "Where are we going?"

"Here." Trowa swung into a parking place, set the brake, and unbuckled his seat belt.

"_**Yasmina's**_ _**Oasis**_ ?"

"For you." Trowa ran around to the back door of the car and opened it, offering Quatre his hand. "Middle Eastern."

Quatre's eyes glistened with emotion. I couldn't look. It was sweet of Trowa; maybe he was good enough for my bud. I settled on a single crutch to get me from car to table. There was no maneuvering room for two. 'Fei played doorman and Heero brought up the rear ready to steady me as I wavered. We entered the exotic room of delights single file.

Inside, my mouth watered from the delicious smells, even the talk was rich and spicy like gingerbread. We were guided to a low, round table and handed menus filled with indecipherable items. Quatre explained the dishes, but it was too complicated to agree on anything so we let him order an assortment for sharing.

"Appetizers have arrived!" I shouted. I was hungry and nothing was better than having food appear immediately at the table.

There was a bean dip and an eggplant dip and a basket of steaming hot flatbread. The waiter drizzled olive oil and sprinkled what Q-man told us was _sumac_ over the top.

"Enjoy!" the young waiter chortled, then left to the next table.

Quatre rattled off the names, _hummus_ and _Baba Ghannouj _with_ pitas_, but I was happily absorbed in tasting. I could detect garlic in the dips and I think I polished off both bowls myself.

"Perhaps you should order more, Quatre," I whispered.

"There will be plenty more coming," he said. "I'm glad you like the food."

"The sample was nice," Trowa said looking at me as if I'd stolen all the food and left him to starve, which I had.

I was saved by the return of the waiter. He set before us two tureens of soup and placed smaller bowls and spoons around. With a flourish of showmanship, he ladled servings to order.

"_Shourba_ or Lentil?" he asked me first.

Quatre suggested I try the fish soup first, then the other, so I did. Wufei and Heero did the same, while Trowa went the opposite route. I may have taken the time to squeeze a wedge of lemon into the lentil soup, as Quatre suggested, or maybe not.

"This fish soup is truly wonderful. I would like to prepare this myself sometime," Wufei said.

"If you cook it, I'll eat it!" Quatre giggled. "I'll get the recipe." He was pleased as punch with how much we were all enjoying the food of his heritage.

In the end, both serving bowls were emptied. In between bites, there was little or no conversation. Game play had sucked the last vestiges of our body's resources, and we all ate like starving refugees.

"I ordered a sliced cucumber salad dish because I remembered how much you liked the Japanese version," Quatre said as two plates were set before me, well me and everyone else.

"Yeah, this is great, Q-man! What's in it, mint?" I asked.

"Yes, and salt instead of soy sauce, but otherwise it's similar, right? Wouldn't you say so Heero?"

Heero nodded and jammed more into his mouth. He hadn't said a word. Although I could tell he was eating, I wasn't sure if he was pissed his plans were changed or if his emotions had clamped down again. For a little time, I'd seen glimpses of feelings from him: smiles, surprise, concern, disappointment. Now he wore the war-time visage of the stern, heartless fighter. Maybe the food disagreed with him.

"The other dish is _tabbuli,_ a real Arabic salad supreme. The mint in these salads is supposed to clear our palates for the meat dishes which are just about to come. Just push the stuff aside and make room."

Two platters of meat dishes arrived. Lamb _shish kebab_ was torn apart and distributed across the table. _Djaj Mhammar_, Quatre told us, was baked chicken.

"Cinnamon?" Wufei asked.

"Uh, huh," Quatre mumbled through a mouthful of food.

"Unusual, but delicious. This rice, though, I am used to rice plain and steamed."

"_Pilaf_ with currents and pine nuts and curry spices," Quatre elaborated.

Heero glanced at his watch. I don't know if he was hoping to make the movie still or not. Trowa leaned his way and told him, "The show starts in a few minutes."

"Show? What show?" I asked.

"You'll see." Trowa's smile flashed briefly, then he dipped his chin and his expression was hidden in inscrutability.

Quatre perked up. I could see realization washing over him, so he must have worked out what the entertainment could be. He wouldn't look any of us in the eye; instead, he concentrated on cleaning his plate with a neat triangle of pita bread.

The waiter whisked away our used plates, clearing the table. "Dessert? Coffee? Chai?"

"Tea," Wufei said.

Quatre placed a complicated order and the waiter smiled. "It will be ready immediately. During the show, I will be serving drinks only."

"So, what's the show all about?" I asked.

"Skin," Trowa said.

Wufei choked on his sip of water and Heero huffed at the side. Quatre made some dismissive comment and pointed to a far corner, dusky with smoke, I assumed, from the kitchen, and lit by a row of candelabra with flickering candles. Below them worked a man setting up a sound system.

"Music," Wufei said. He looked sloe-eyed at Trowa and smiled with satisfaction.

Trowa leaned toward him, repeating, "And skin."

A waitress from the bar delivered a tray of drinks, Arabic coffee, mint chai, and a spicy black chai, which was more exciting than Trowa's teasing. I liked them all, especially the coffee, but Heero stuck with the mint tea and Wufei with the black. Our waiter scooted to the table rushing to deliver our dessert before the show.

"_Muhallebi_ and your _baklava. _Enjoy the entertainment!" He smiled, winked, and left.

Quatre dished up servings of the rose-flavored pudding, adorning each plate with a sticky piece of the nut pastry in complete silence. As I lifted my spoon, the electric lights dimmed, leaving the candles to cast the only light in the room. Strains of exotic music filtered through the diners' monotonous drone, rising as the sound man cranked the volume dial up a couple notches. The tingling of bells and swish of silk against silk drew our eyes to a beaded curtain.

"Skin," Trowa said with a chuckle, leaning back in his chair and watching as five dancers whirled past the beads and under the candlelight.

"Belly dancers!" Wufei said in a gasp of surprise.

In the lead was a statuesque, attractive lady of an indeterminable middle age. Her bosoms budged precariously from her purple bra. Well-padded hips undulated suggestively, jangling the swags of metal coins to the rhythm of the music. A lady in her twenties, I guessed, and two teens, one very young, jiggled and wiggled around in pursuit of the older woman. One of the teens was quite pretty and well endowed, the other, slender as chopstick. The fifth was male.

Heero regarded him as intensely as he might have regarded a freshly minted Gundam. Quatre's eyes moved from one dancer to the other, but lingered on the boy, too. Trowa's eyes were hidden from me, but I could tell he was following the boy closely by the angle of his head. Wufei was in shock, I think.

"It's a boy," Wufei uttered in a low voice. "I think. He's not wearing a top."

He wasn't wearing much at all. His transparent pants were so low-slung on his hips I expected him to shimmy out of them at any second. He was wearing a black g-string.

"Oh, yes," Quatre said. "It has become all the rage in Istanbul for nightclubs to feature young, handsome, male belly dancers. They are called _rakkas _from the word _raks, _which means 'dance.' They dress in the same kind of costumes the ladies do and perform nearly every night of the week."

"So, it is a new thing?" I asked, sipping my coffee to clear my throat. I was working hard to keep my voice flat and my eyes trained on the girls.

"Not at all. It goes back to the days when wealthy families kept harems. In Muslim countries, the harem was that part of a house set apart for the women of the family. Non-family males were not allowed. Eunuchs guarded the Sultans' harems, which were quite large, including several hundred women who were wives and concubines. Female dancers and musicians entertained the women living in the harem. Belly dance was performed by women _for women_."

"A true loss for the men," Wufei whispered.

One of the younger dancers with shining black curls, smooth olive skin, and flashing eyes circled our table, and I swear Wufei blushed and smiled at her.

"They thought so, too!" Quatre laughed. "With the absence of females in social and entertainment life, Ottoman-era men watched _male_ belly dancers to satisfy their need to see something, ah, aesthetic. The boys danced as long as they stayed good looking and could hide their beards."

Wufei frowned slightly. "An old man would be most unattractive dancing in that manner."

"No shit," I agreed. "So men watched dancing boys as a substitute for the girl dancers?"

"Oh, yes," Quatre said, his eyes gleaming. "Some audience members were so enamored they would write poetry about the male dancers."

"I'll bet the attention didn't stop with poetry," Trowa said.

Quatre and Wufei shifted uncomfortably in their chairs. Heero tasted his tea, which was undoubtedly cold, blinked, then set it down. His eyes returned to the show, the boy dancer being the show stopper.

He was sensuous, attractive, effeminate, and well-schooled in music and dance, because he knew his stuff. His dancing was sexually provocative, incorporating the finger snapping, slow belly movements, and the suggestive gestures of the women with breath-taking acrobatics.

"Bet Trowa could do that," I said after one particularly sinuous roll. "Another job prospect for you, Tro-baby!"

The man dipped his head so I couldn't see his expression, but Quatre kicked my foot. "Don't put any ideas in his head."

The women dancers kept up a rhythm with wooden clappers, but our pretty boy wore metal cymbals on his fingers.

"Those are called _zils," _Quatre said

"What are?" I asked.

"The cymbals."

Trowa chuckled. "As if any of them are looking at the cymbals, Quat. Hmmm, he's coming over here. Do we tip?"

Quatre shrugged. "If you want, but don't touch."

"Never," Trowa said, seriously.

Executing a slight of hand, he flipped a bill by his ear and waved. The dancer weaved around, backing up to Trowa's chair. Trowa slipped the money into the waistband at the hip and whispered something I couldn't hear. The boy grinned and spun on a heel, a blur of glittering bangles and wavy brown hair curling past his shoulders. I scrambled to find some money of my own and tipped him generously when he dipped close, his ass missing my face by an inch.

I also tipped the girls. It wasn't favoritism or anything.

It was nearly ten o'clock by the time we left.

(o)

The next day Heero and Wufei had already left early to go on hike by the time I awoke. I was ensconced once again on the couch, facing the fire, when Quatre asked me for permission to accompany Trowa shopping, I figured out that they had setup a new schedule, always leaving two guys with the invalid and covering for my cooking assignments.

"Sure go, otherwise there'll be nothing to eat. We need TP, too. Oh, yeah, and Heero and I are going out to dinner."

"That sounds nice, Duo. I approve."

I turned away, but I could hear the smile in his voice.

"Stop it, Quat. I mean it. It's just a meal… and a movie. Just friends."

"Does _he_ think so?"

I did not answer. Trowa thundered down the stairs, shouting, "Just go. You don't need his consent, babe. Don't worry about Maxwell. He's perfectly able to care for himself a few hours. He could kill a bear, if he had to."

You gotta love him, and hate him.

"With my bare hands!" I shouted.

Quatre snickered and fell to temptation. "Okay, but here's my cell phone," he said handing his slick silver custom phone to me. "Call Trowa's number if you need anything. Promise?"

"Thieves honor," I vowed and they tumbled out the door with Trowa's arm snaking around my bud's shoulders.

Everybody was gone, but me. I scrambled for the Wii, thrilled to have it all to myself. It was an outlet for my pent up aggressions, which I was grateful for. I completely forgot about the dinner and movie plans until Heero and Wufei returned.

"Want to go?" Heero asked. "I'll change."

"Oh, yeah! Me, too. What do you think will fit over this brace?"

"Sweatpants will be all right."

"Okay. That's good 'cause it's probably all I've got that works. Nothing too fancy, then."

"No. I was thinking the steakhouse near the theatre."

"Yeah, that would be great." I was pleased to be consulted.

His eyes studied me intently for a moment. "You are feeling up to this?"

"Yeah. Hey, if I get tired I can sleep during the movie."

"Hn."

I thought he would be ticked. I mean, _I_ would be if someone hinted I was so boring they'd sleep away our time together, but he curbed his emotions, as usual, and checked his watch instead.

"We should leave in twenty minutes."

Okay, I changed my shirt and combed my bangs. It was hardly worth the struggle up the stairs, but I figured he might appreciate the effort. Bending was painful and the splint on my leg was awkward and impossible to drag pant legs over, so the sweats remained. All those nice clothes and I was going out looking like a slob. Well, the hell with it.

Heero tapped on my door. "Ready?"

"Yeah," I said. My enthusiasm sapped by now. He looked terrific in his dark blue jeans and grey striped shirt. I tugged at my baggy pants and stood. "Sorry I can't change these."

"Doesn't matter," he said. It may not have to him.

I followed him out the cabin to the car, waited for the engine to warm in silence, and away we went. Companionable silence. Nothing uncomfortable about not talking when you have nothing to say. Trouble was, I had lots on my mind. I just didn't know how to broach the subject with him. What I really wanted to ask was "What is our relationship about?" No, I didn't really want to ask it, I just wanted the answer.

Dinner was actually relaxed and nice. We ate hamburgers and fries, good ones, with sodas. Simple stuff. We talked a little about work. He told me Trowa was more reserved at work than with us at the cabin.

"I kinda wish he'd keep his mouth shut sometimes," I said.

"Does what he say bother you?"

"Yes."

"He and Quatre—"

"I know." I didn't want him to say it, whatever it was.

"Quatre's still your friend."

"I know, that hasn't changed, though, I guess he won't be inviting me over much anymore." I tried to chuckle, but couldn't pull it off. It was sad.

"Why do you think that?"

"Because he'd rather spend time with his boyfriend than his little buddy, that's why. I don't blame him. It's just I don't think a guy like Trowa has much in common with Quatre, outside of manning a Gundam in the war."

"They are different. It could help."

I shrugged and finished my meal. Heero and I were vastly different; was that good? I was pretty quiet for a change with too much on my mind.

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah."

He didn't believe me. "Are you in pain?"

Yes, but that wasn't my problem. "We've known each other for what—couple years? I've seen you at your worst, and you've seen me in some pretty awful times."

"True. Duo, what is your point?"

"What do we know about one another?"

He frowned, thinking I suppose. "Does it matter?"

Guess not.

"Quatre has his Arabic heritage, Wufei his Chinese; you, you're Japanese. I wish I had that. Those roots."

"You are American."

"That's what they said, the scientists."

"I'm only Japanese because I believe what they told me about my past. I have no proof, no documentation, no past reference." He stared at me, unblinking. "We are all creations for the purpose of fighting a war that is over."

"So, we gotta redefine ourselves now." I caught his eye and grinned. "Damn, I was hoping to get by with this 'Duo' for another eighteen years."

"This Duo is fine for me." Heero shrugged and nearly smiled. "We can walk to the movie."

I snorted, "You can. I gotta hop in a dignified way."

Well, it was talking. It may not have been about what was really bugging me, but I wasn't ready to dig any deeper. This much was already pushing both of our comfort levels.

I was right about Heero not being the 'hand holding' type. He kept to himself in the theatre. Our fingers may have brushed once in the popcorn bucket. No arm slinking around me, no hand creeping over my knee, not even any thigh action. He sat and watched the movie. The entire 'date' was platonic, as I had suspected. Heero was just trying to firm up our friendship. He liked me. Trowa was his partner. Quatre was involved with Trowa. 'Fei and he were too much alike, and, even though he and I shared some common elements from our past, we were very different guys, different enough to be interesting company. By the end of our evening I was more relaxed. He had answered my question without words. He needed a best friend and I was losing mine to a lover, so I was available. Heero could be my new best bud.

Six days of vacation and I was practically back to where I'd started, minus the battle fatigue. I should have been a lot happier than I was.

(o)

I awoke in the dark. I got my bearings by the light of the fire. I hadn't made it back to my own room after the long day and wearing evening, and had collapsed awkwardly on the couch. Now my body complained bitterly. I pushed back the pain, but I must have let out a groan, because afterward I heard the rustle of clothes, and I sat up.

"Are you in pain?" Heero asked.

Following the sounds of his movements and voice, I twisted around and located him by the window. The curtains were moving so he probably had been staring out into the darkness. I wondered for how long?

"Ugh, yeah, but nothing I can't handle. It's dark. How long have I been sleeping? What time is it anyhow?"

"Three AM. You weren't in your room."

_Why were you checking on me?_ "Man, don't remind me. I need to piss and find a better bed, in that order."

I stood and he was at my side instantly. "You need help?"

He touched my arm. This is where words fail. There are no words to describe the feeling he produced in me – or perhaps there are words, but they don't come to me. All I can say is that the effect was truly shocking. I couldn't help the intake of breath, the quick shudder of my whole body. I shook; my knees weakened, but his fingers stayed there, tightening as he gripped my arm. The glowing logs provided the only light. The drapes were open a few inches and it was dark out, but outdoor porch lights illuminated a thin layer of snow on the ground. He stood very close. Although I couldn't see him clearly, my mind drew every outline of his body. I could imagine his black jeans—and how he filled them. With my eyes closed or open, the image was still there.

I could feel the heat of his body again, as his breath brushed my cheek. Still, I could not move, nor would I have wanted to, except that he was supporting me on my feet, er, foot. I used his arms for balance and he stepped one last step. Now, his body was touching mine. I could feel the skin of his shoulder against mine. He hadn't put on a shirt and was wearing thin, drawstring pajama bottoms. Involuntarily, I leaned into him for support, so we were pressed together and I was unable to move, holding my body as straight as I could. I was scared to go any further, yet I was afraid of what I might miss. His groin rubbed against my leg. Hot again.

He pressed himself against me, again, harder, and then shuddered violently, gasping, "Oh!"

I could feel the sudden wetness through both layers of clothes as he leaned against me. I could feel his tension release, his breath come in pants, so I just held him for a few moments. After that he pulled away, his breathing harsh.

"Sorry," he gasped, his voice panicky. His emotionless mask dropped. "I didn't mean for that to happen. I'm really sorry."

My hands clasped his arms again, afraid he might have a heart attack or bolt, as I would have, if I _could_ have, had I just shot my load on him. "Don't say sorry."

"What?" he asked, confused.

"Nothing to apologize about."

"But," he croaked, his voice miserable now, "that had been unintentional."

_Well, yeah! That's called spontaneity, dipwad!_

"Don't apologize. It was fairly natural. You couldn't help it."

I tried to sound casual to set him at ease, but only sounded foolishly pedantic even to my own ears. The perfect soldier couldn't control an ejaculation, perfectly. He was humiliated, but hadn't pulled further away from me, mostly because I was still holding on him like a limpet to its rock.

"It happens to everyone," I added hopefully.

"Not… to me... like that ... it's embarrassing." He sighed, and said in a changed voice, becoming less uptight, "And messy, too."

He smiled slightly.

"Yeah, well."

I wanted to smile, too, but I hid my face. He dropped his arms and we broke apart. I caught him touching his pajamas, inspecting himself, leaving a sharp smell in the air.

Gods, my heart was racing! He was standing there only a pace away. Was this an invitation? Should I reach out again? I hesitated, unsure, scared again. Scared of what his reaction might be if I did. Then he turned away from me.

"Look," he said, slowly, awkwardly, "I am sorry about that. I didn't mean it to happen. It ... just did."

"Hey, I said it's all right. Don't worry. Forget it."

The cooling dampness on my pants where we had been momentarily glued together reminded me that we both needed a change of clothes. Still, he stood there, and I realized he must have been waiting for me to go. I was the source of shame to him. The moment had past for me to say something constructive, and there was no bringing it back, and my body reminded me that I needed to piss, urgently now, so I turned and hopped and hobbled to "my" bathroom and shut the door behind me.

Not that I was aware of my surroundings. Instead, my mind was filled with what had just happened. _Heero out of control? I caused this? Should I have made a move toward him?_

Part of my mind regretted not having done so; another part was horrified by the idea. I alternatively chastised myself for not having seized the opportunity to hold him again and hated him for having used me that way. What the hell was he doing standing there watching over me in the dark? I finished, washed my face and hands, and opened the door.

Heero was gone, which was both a relief and a disappointment. Through various contortions I climbed the stairs to my room and perched on the side of my bed, gathering my wits about me. I tried distracting myself, while I tossed my shirt onto the floor and changed into a clean pair of loose sweatpants, by reciting all the startup procedures for a Gundam that I could remember, but without much success. My thoughts returned to Heero like a mill wheel, round and round.

_So, I was not his best friend? Was I just handy for sexual release?_ It surely hadn't been a romantic tryst. That would involve kissing, at the very least. _What was going on?_

How could I face him the next time we had another of our encounters, because I was certain we would have another. Heero was hot, no doubt about it, and now I had a new set of feelings to keep me wide awake.

End, It's a Vacation, Chapter Four.


	5. It's a Vacation Chapter 5

**DEFYING GRAVITY**

**Part One:** **It's a Vacation**

**Chapter Five**

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Gundam Wing or its characters, nor do I make any monetary profit off this story.  
Warnings: 1x2x1, 3x4x3, AU, yaoi, some language  
--Kaeru Shisho 5/1/2007 14:49

* * *

The next day we woke up to find a foot of new snow covering the landscape. Luckily we had food to last and the Wii to consume our leisure time. This was the last day of our vacation. We'd all be leaving the next day, assuming Heero had picked up the chains for his car. Frankly, I was glad. I was anxious to get the hell away from my dilemmas and back to simply staying alive and completing the next covert operation, but when I thought a second time about leaving and returning to my dorm cot and that inevitable next assignment, the prospect depressed me. 

Then again, maybe it was being stuck inside with my injured body and nowhere to run away from my active imagination and confusion that was depressing my mood. Quatre coerced Heero into baking cookies with him to "cheer us all up," meaning me. That left Trowa and Wufei to die at the hands of my matchless Wii skills.

"Okay, break time!" his light tenor warbled. Quatre set two plates, piled high with cookies, on the coffee table, blocking the TV.

No amount of groaning and moaning would move the guy, so we ended the game prematurely. Quatre could be stubborn, too. I guess we all took turns being bone-headed and "obdurate", as Wufei would say. Heero set a pot of tea, cups, glasses, and a gallon of milk on the table, and that was too much good eats to ignore. No sooner had we started in on the cookies, than Quatre cleared his throat.

"So, has everyone enjoyed the cabin? Comfortable? I think we all get along very well. We work like a team, don't you think?"

Trowa smiled faintly. He reminded me of a man who'd swallowed a bite of his lover's cooking, hated it, and was agonizing over whether to make a run to the bathroom or simply maintain a pleasant exterior and deal with the consequences. Then again, maybe I was reading him all wrong, but he was creeping me out with that inane smile.

Heero looked at me then he became fascinated in his left shirt cuff. He rolled it up then down. He found a thread to tease the living daylights out of. I wanted to rip the thing off, the sleeve, the whole shirt. That would do.

"Yes," Wufei said his expression suspicious, which was nothing out of the ordinary.

Quatre looked from face to face, landing on mine. Trowa's smile turned languid and his eye closed. Heero fidgeted. 'Fei riveted his beady little eyes on me. I guessed that was my cue to say something.

"Yeah, it's been swell. Now, spit it out, Q-man. What's your point," I said.

"Well, okay. It's this idea I had. What if we rented a house together and all moved out of the Preventers' dormitory?"

Wufei approached the idea from the practical side. "Can we afford a five bedroom house anywhere?"

"I found a four bedroom place that's very reasonable and close to work. Trowa and I can share."

"This isn't just about you and Trowa wanting more privacy, is it?" I asked bluntly.

He had the decency to blush. "No."

Heero stared down Trowa. "Have you both seen this house?"

Quatre gasped. "Oh, no! I just found it on the internet listings. I wouldn't have presumed…not without seeing what you all thought first."

"There would be advantages to such an arrangement," Wufei declared.

"There are many annoying people I'd be happy to never see again outside of work," Heero agreed.

"Ditto," said Trowa.

"It would be nice to come home to… my own place," Wufei said.

"Duo? You haven't said anything. Wouldn't it be nice to get away from work? To have a place to call your own, to keep your things?" Quatre asked.

"Yeah, I guess. Never knew a place like that before."

I watched as my bud rinsed his cookie in milky tea. Quatre's gestures were elegance personified. It was fortunate that his mind followed suit or he would seem affected. I broke my cookie into pieces and ate one.

"Duo, I'd like you to consider doing this, and give up the suicide missions."

My eyes hardened. He was entering dangerous territory, a mine field littered with explosive topics. His eyes flooded with tears. He wiped them away with a sleeve.

"Do you have any idea how much you are missed when you're gone? What is does to the rest of us knowing you have taken on so much risk, that we can't help, that we never know when the next time we see you may be the last?" Quatre's voice wavered, and he paused a moment to compose himself.

"I, ah…"

"We all love you, Duo. You're our optimistic brother with a heart of gold, or used to be. It takes longer to get our friend back after these missions and that's not good. It's starting to bankrupt you emotionally! We need you for balance. I need you, Duo."

Emotionally Bankrupt. I searched the eyes of my friends and saw the truth of what Quatre had said. And suddenly, it's like all the starch had gone out of me. Heero's cell phone chimed. He checked the caller id irritably, stood, and took the call in the kitchen. He shook his head as if the caller could see how much he didn't want to talk.

"Sorry," I said. My eyes followed Heero like an addict his supplier; I had no choice but to keep him under surveillance; it might be the last day I'd see him. Quatre had been right about that. Everything.

Impatient with my obtuseness, Wufei said, "It's obvious. _He_ wants you to do this move and alter your duty assignments. He wants you to value your life as much as he does."

"He's smitten with you," Quatre said.

"For the fucking love of…!" I laughed aloud at his archaic term, while, in my mind, dressing Heero in short pants and ruffled shirt, ascot at his neck, handing me a scented calling card.

My bud dipped his chin, cleared his throat, and wouldn't meet my eyes after his disclosure. I was damned glad that Heero was concentrating on his call, oblivious to the buzz going on around him.

"You may all be presuming too much about his personal life," Wufei said. "I do know, however, that Heero is a concerned friend, Maxwell, and that he is a fully functioning human being _only _when you are around.

"Because he likes Duo, a lot!" Quatre said, asserting himself again.

"I don't know, Q-man," I said with a smile. "I always believed that a person could fall in love in the time it took to stick out a hand and say hello. If there was anything, you'd think I'd have figured it out by now."

"One would _think_," Trowa muttered behind a hand.

"Not if you weren't looking," Quatre said. "Not if you were pig-headedly looking for the wrong…hand."

"What do you mean by that?"

"You know exactly what I mean. Some men think that in order to pass for 'straight', they must take part in conversation with other men about women. Instead of talking about women, they seem to talk about the idea of women, as if a relationship with a woman were more of an abstract idea."

"And you say I do that?"

"Yes," Quatre said. "You always have as long as I've known you. The only person you are fooling is yourself. Stop deluding yourself."

I looked at Wufei, hoping for his support. "Your personal inclinations are not my business, Maxwell. Winner, drop it. You are comfortable with your…choices, I take it. Please, honor our privacy and permit the rest of us to conduct our own self discovery in our own time."

Quatre nodded unhappily and didn't push the issue, which was excellent timing. Heero returned, glowering, the irritation radiating off him, like gamma rays off a brick of uranium. Had I a Geiger counter it would have been reverberating off the charts. He extended his arm, offering me his phone.

"It's for you. Lady Une has a mission. It starts next week."

_Eew burn, man!_

My phone was turned off and in by bag in my room upstairs. Deep down inside, I hadn't wanted to be contacted. This was why. So, what was I so say to my boss?

"Okay, I'll take that." I caught the phone mid air.

Heero stood, arms at his sides, fists clenching. He said nothing, but I could feel his eyes burning into my back as I hobbled into "my" bathroom to take the call. I came out a few minutes later and whatever conversation had been going on before had now screeched to a brink-of-the-precipice halt.

"I, ah, told her I needed a few months leave-of-absence to get my head together, see a shrink, and, ah… move. Oh, and stay off the bum leg. Hope you all still want to do that now that I've gone and committed myself. Or…did I just shoot myself in the other foot?"

"Yes!" Quatre cheered. "Everything's wonderful! Oh, Trowa, what a good idea this was!"

In one of the few ungallant acts of his life, Quatre took Trowa by the shoulders, pushed him back against the nearest wall, and kissed his boyfriend unmercifully. Trowa did not protest.

When I dared look, Heero was running a hand through his hair and smiling. The last day at the cabin took on a whole different meaning after that. It wasn't just an end, it was a beginning. We traded off gaming with planning for our big move.

(o)

It was Sunday afternoon, checkout day, for some of us. Wufei packed chains along with the shovel and scraper, and when it came time to leave, he was smug about it, too.

"I am surprised Yuy neglected to prepare appropriately for snow," he told Trowa as they cleaned up after breakfast. "He previewed the forecasts just as I had."

I was snoozing by the fire, resting my splinted leg stretched out along the entire length of the couch, having become very catlike in my convalescence. I'm sure they thought I was asleep, or they wouldn't be having this conversation within my earshot. As it was, just use the name "Yuy" or "Heero" in a sentence and I was all ears and whiskers. Meow, baby.

Trowa packed a few of the leftover food items for the ride home. "Don't be ridiculous, Chang. The man didn't bring snow gear for a reason."

"There is no excuse for poor planning."

"Confucius say: Look no further than the amount of time he's spent all week with Maxwell for your answers," Trowa said.

"Don't patronize me."

"Sure, Scholar Chang. You do know what Chekhov said, 'If you put a gun on a table in act one, it had better go off in act three.'"

"Barton, move out of my way."

"Clothes shopping, cross-country ski equipment, and now this." Trowa lowered his voice further so I could scarcely make out what he said. "Too bad they have to stay another night, alone in the cabin, while they wait for an order of car chains to come in. And what if that next big storm hits a little early and they have to stay _another_ night, while the roads get cleared? Tough luck, real tough." Trowa chuckled. "Yuy's looking for some action."

Wufei snorted. "You have an overactive imagination distorted by your personal perverted twist. Although—All right, I will grant you that he may have set himself up to remain behind with Maxwell, but only to force the man to rest longer. With that ankle, he won't be up to much… activity."

"Uh, huh. You don't believe that yourself. Even a stiff like you has to admit that Maxwell's hot and Yuy lusts after his ass. And, no sprained ankle is going to come between Yuy and his goal."

"I'm not…stiff. I'm reserved, and I don't have to admit to anything."

"Remember that fight you broke up in the locker room?"

"That was inconsequential," Chang demurred. "Yuy could have handled the ten men fine. I didn't want it to turn into a bigger brawl."

"Yuy was defending his territory. He overheard some guys jacking off over a picture of Maxwell. He cleaned their clocks, and they had no idea Yuy wanted him just as bad. In fact, if anything it bolstered his perfect, straight male image. But I know better. You know better, too."

"These are our best friends you are gossiping about. I look the other way with you and Winner and I refuse to speculate about anyone. I don't find it seemly or titillating. My personal life is…"

"Non-existent."

"Full and complete! I have a date with Miss Po tomorrow, as a matter of fact."

"I knew it," Trowa said, his rumbling laughter covering Wufei's indignant noises. "Quatre bet me you'd never have the nerve to ask."

"Well, now you know." He added punctuation with an indignant sniff. "Oh, you will drive back today."

"Sure thing," Trowa said.

"To ensure the two of you behave honorably, I will take the front passenger seat."

"Oh, no you won't. I can keep two hands on the wheel at all times and entertain my boyfriend- I promise- as long as you meditate silently in the back seat."

"Humph!" I heard the irritated snort of an man about to give up the fight. "Agreed. Now, get out of my way; I have the car to load."

I replayed the words in my head, intent on remaining still, and was so focused on that task that I wasn't aware of Trowa until I felt his hot breath on my exposed ear.

"And if you don't believe me, you stubborn dipshit, take a look at what Yuy has hidden away in his beside table."

"Shit!" I jumped a foot off the couch, straight up, I think, but when I looked around, Trowa was gone.

"Ugh." I fell off the couch and onto the floor, banging my leg on the coffee table. My aches and bruises, unmasked by pain killers, knocked the stuffing out of me.

Trowa was gone, but he had left behind a glass of water and two pills for me. Not just any meds would work. These hailed from his medical kit. These were Maxwell-system-tolerant pain killers, not really "lion tranqs" as I liked to call them. Wonderful man, when he wasn't full of it. Of course, now all I wanted to do was check out the contents of Heero's bedside table! _Condoms and lube? A gun? Dirty magazines?  
_

I mean, hey, I had a normal, active, eighteen-year-old sex drive just like the rest of them, but that didn't translate into boinking my friends! I didn't even consider the submitting to the reverse. Okay, I had a few dreams, but a guy who acts on his desires for other men is dead meat. As I repeated my mantra, though, I felt half dead already.

Still, Quatre was right about changing times, conditions, and the fact that we weren't ordinary guys. We! We, yeah, that included me, too, but I wasn't gay or anything. I only liked Heero.

Yeah, I was back vacillating between wanting and rejecting. One good night's sleep and my insecurities reasserted themselves, especially since it was going to be just me and Heero holding down the fort. Trowa had even packed the Wii. _What would we do to pass the time? What did Heero want to do?_ _Man, a couple of those pills could help, if only I could reach them._

I never wanted anyone else. Since I didn't believe we had any future, I stuck to my mantra and ghost-walked through life. I took the most dangerous missions and tried not to think about the hopelessness of Heero Yuy. I wasn't making him an obsession, more of a repression, if that's a thing.

_Who in my life could I compare Heero to?_

As if in answer, Quatre appeared at my elbow, handing me the pills and water.

"Oh, thanks, Quatre. How did you know I needed these?" I loved the guy.

"Trowa mentioned you looked pained," Quatre said. "I'll leave more bottled water and pills here on the coffee table. We'll set up an appointment as soon as possible so we all can see the house. Now, have fun and don't hurry back."

"Yeah, drive carefully, break a leg, and all that!" I called to his retreating back.

No, I couldn't compare my feeling for Heero with my bud, Quatre, but who else had I spent any time with lately? I had been out with colleagues, friends, acquaintances. No real dates. Coffee shop, target practice, and lunch kind of dates. The others may have thought I was popular, but they were wrong if they thought I had a chance of heading into any relationships. I had warm tender feelings for my friends, but no idea how they actually felt about me. I could make a few educated guesses, though. To Hilda I must be pure old slippers; to Sally and Dorothy, I appeared to be a think tank, one extra tactician to bolster their egos; and to Miss Po, I was, clearly, Nothing.

I didn't remember dreams about the male population, unless they involved Heero, and that was rare. I really, really didn't want to _go ther_e. I worked to forget.

Work. Didn't have that to fall back on now, did I? Counseling didn't sound so appealing right now, either. What possessed me to change my life, just like that, all of a sudden, just up and decide to take a sabbatical!? I must have really needed this break.

Wufei left us his shovel. I could see it resting aside the door. Nice of him. Didn't have to do that. Without me in the car there was more room for their personal stuff previously carried in Heero's vehicle, even the shovel. I was going to be alone with Heero. What was he going to do this time? If I died, he could bury me in the snow with that shovel and no one would find my body for months. He could deny it all. I decided that maybe I should tell Wufei to pack the shovel.

I was thinking about the stupidest things. Luckily, I was keeping my mouth shut at the same time so none of it leaked out. I blamed it all on the pain killers like everyone else.

"Bye!"

Heero saw them off from the stairs, declaring he would be taking a shower. Trowa waved and headed out the door with a bag over each shoulder, but not before casting his smirk over me and Heero. Quatre dipped his head to hide his smile and wished us well, and Wufei nodded curtly, while closing the door behind him. Wufei, Quatre, and Trowa took off, chain-encased tires creaking over the icy road, leaving me, the shovel, and Heero to our own devices.

In spite of my restricted mobility, I was in Heero's room an instant after I heard the water blasting from the shower, managing not to thump the splint on anything and make noise. I'd be paying for the activity later with more throbbing, but better than letting curiosity kill the poor, street-ratty, Duo-tomcatty. There were two tables, one on either side of the headboard. It took me twenty seconds to discover both drawers were empty.

"What are you doing here?"

"Ahhhh." I spun like a top, a wobbly, unstable one, while surreptitiously ripping the rubber band from the end of my braid before facing a towel-wrapped Heero. "Looking for my hair band. I, ah, shot it and it flew someplace in here. Oh, yeah here it is." I dipped to the floor and snatched it, overbalancing and falling on my ass. I didn't ordinarily lie to my friends, because I was really bad at it. "I thought you were going to shower."

"Hn," he said, meaning: "No, you didn't, but you are so pathetic I will let it pass this time." He pulled a bottle of shampoo out of a paper bag on the closet floor. "I needed this."

I strained to keep my eyes on his face and off the exposed hip where the towel parted at the side. His chest was really cut and smooth, with only the finest trail of dark hairs leading from his bellybutton down past the edge of the towel.

Shit, I had to retrain my brain. Ah… Okay, his Japanese genes left him relatively hairless. I'll bet he never had to shave, lucky bastard. I imagined the cherubic Quatre would grow up to be a bear, a gold Viking bear, despite the fact that his gene pool hailed from someplace in Arabia. A Viking, Lawrence of Arabia grizzly bear. That terrible image centered my thoughts. "Your shampoo. Oh. Right."

"Stay here. I'll be done shortly."

If that wasn't heart-stopping enough, he reached out and offered me a hand up. I used it to stand, even though I didn't need to. I had one good leg, which was more than I'd had once during the war and I still managed to crawl two miles past an enemy encampment and pilot my Gundam to safety. Ah, and then he touched my braid. He gave it a little shake, loosening the strands. "It's softer than it looks."

"Oh? Yeah, heh, heh… Ah, that's the conditioner I use now."

"Conditioner." He probably added that term to his list of "things Duo uses."

"Yeah. I didn't always keep my hair this nice. Heck, it was braided to avoid having to wash and comb it out. Sometimes it would get pretty nasty. I remember after a particularly rough go during the war, Quatre invited me to his family's island spread to recuperate. You've been there, right? Pretty awesome, huh? Well, we were just new friends at the time and it was like a palace. Anyway, I met a couple of his sisters and they went gaga over my hair and trimmed it and that's when they showed me how to use conditioner to make it easier to comb out. I was mortified at the time, but Quatre was cool about it all. He was used to gushing females, I guess."

"You and Winner are… close."

And there you have it. He was insecure.

"Yeah. Best buds. Like the brother I never had, but nothing more. If you haven't noticed, he's got a pretty dedicated boyfriend. Besides, I'm not, ah, interested. Um, I'm not…ah_…" Able to lie through my teeth, apparently. So just fill in the blanks as you think appropriate._

Heero nodded. "This conditioner, would it make my hair lay flat?"

I grinned. "Might! I'll get it for you."

I hobbled to my room, eager for something do besides ogle my friend's near-naked body and hide my own arousal. I was not _immune,_ no matter how hard I tried.

So, why was I trying to fight it? Convention, intense fear, and ignorance. What do two guys do when they like each other? Heero was not the hand-holding-strolling-through-the-mall type. Something private then. I couldn't see myself snuggling on the couch with him, well, I could, but we hadn't. He was so rigid. Quatre and Trowa kissed, but Quatre was so approachable; Heero wasn't. I would have said he was nervous, but he was about as composed as they come. He didn't waffle; he acted. What I'd seen or heard men doing in bathrooms, dark alleys, porn shops, both disgusted and fascinated me. I wanted no part of it, unless Heero did. I was confused and battling a wild mix of desires.

I found Heero just outside his room when I returned, tossing him the bottle. "You'll only need a small glob, leave it in a couple minutes, rinse, and you're good."

He nodded and we stood and stared at each other. He looked tense enough to bash his fist through the wall.

"Okay?" I asked. "Need me to show you?"

His pause gave me pause. He was actually considering it! I had tagged that on as a joke.

"No, I'll be faster alone. Wait in here."

Man, he was adamant about me waiting for him in his room, and I have to say it got me curious. Several explicit sex scenes played in my mind, all at once. _Fuck! I was going to need a shower!_

I wanted to sit and chose to use the chair by the wall with the small bookcase. I settled on reading while I waited, lifted my splinted leg onto the middle bookshelf, and picked out a book. "Fly Fishing" looked entertaining. I was, in fact, entranced until I heard the shower shut off and knew Heero would be back in a minute. _Would he use his towel on his hair, or as a body wrap again?_

I pictured both, which was why my face was red when he came in, towel-drying his hair, wearing a loose pair of jeans, hanging low enough that I could tell he wasn't wearing underwear. My mouth went on overdrive.

"This looks like fun," I cried out, showing him a picture of some shitfaced ancient mariner fishing by a river. "Rod, reels, a little technique, nothing much, except the bait's kinda complicated. Guess different food for different fish, huh? These pros make their own." I flipped a few pages where close up pictures demonstrated how to tie a "fly." "Think I could make these?"

His bare chest brushed the hairs on my forearm. I could feel his warmth and dampness and forgot to breathe a few counts. But that was nothing. He cradled one of my hands in his, stroking, feeling out the calluses, tickling the sensitive tips, but totally oblivious of what he was doing to me. Well, maybe not.

"Yes. You can build anything."

We just sat there, me holding a book, him holding my hand, and both staring at our hands as if they were an unwelcome third party; at least, he was scowling. I moved to get up and again, he braced himself to support some of my weight. I didn't need his help, exactly. I wasn't feeble, but still, it was nice of him. Then our eyes locked. His wet hair brushed the towel draped around his neck. I dropped the book and reached up to caress a lock over his ear.

"Did the trick. The conditioner, you know? Man, your hair is really heavy, but it isn't sticking out. It- Oof!"

That was the sound of my breath escaping after Heero rammed my back against the wall.

He ironed into me from face to thighs. Our teeth clattered and skidded, rough, chapped lips scraped, noses bent and flattened. I was trapped, surrounded by Heero's weight, his steamy heat, and his male scent. Instinctively, I leveraged an arm between us and shoved hard.

"Damn it! I'm flesh and blood here!"

Heero stumbled backwards a couple steps, breathing harder than the effort justified. His body was sharply delineated against the faint light of the window. I could not guess what he might be thinking. He wiped his flushed face awkwardly, pushing his bangs aside.

"Heero?" I whispered, barely audible as I regained my one-footed balance.

I wasn't mad or not mad. Pushing him off me had been a knee-jerk reaction. He jolted straight as if I had startled him. He must have been intent on his thoughts, whatever they were.

Our eyes made contact, he relaxed fractionally, and he said, "I can't seem to do this right."

His voice was controlled. He remained standing in the middle of the room, again not moving, head down. I hopped closer and would have touched him, a gesture which would have been acceptable fully clothed, but seeing him standing there in only his pants it suddenly took on a new dimension, so I folded my surplus arms across my chest instead.

I recognized from those indefinable gestures of body language that he was aroused: the heat seemed to radiate from his body, his lips were parted, his eyes unfocussed, his nipples now visible in the light from the window, hard. His arms were hanging loosely by his side, fingers half curled. I swallowed. I could feel my own body responding, the blood redirected _again _to parts unwanted.

I did not know quite how to handle this situation, to say the least.

"Depends on what the hell you're trying to do." I said harshly and stupidly. If he was mad and lost control I would be dead, and there was the matter of that shovel, still. "Um, I didn't mean that like it came out. Umm. Are you all right?"

He turned half away from me. I stood, fixed, waiting. "Heero? You don't seem all right."

He moved toward me again and I had an overwhelming impulse, not to seize him, or molest him, but just to reach out and touch his arm and connect where words seemed to be failing. The heat radiating from him was even more powerful now.

"It's..." he stopped.

"It's what?"

He shook his head, and murmured, "Nothing."

"It sure the hell's gotta be something!"

He clenched his fists, the veins popping on his arms then slowly opened his hands, staring at them blankly. His eyes closed a moment, as if drawing on all his resources to say what he had to say. "Correct, not nothing. I-I conveyed my feelings to you. I was attentive. I _felt_ the time was right."

_Jeez, spit it out, man!_

"The time was right for _what_?" I asked, suspecting I knew what he'd say.

"To seduce you." Heero looked away. "I misinterpreted your actions. It's hard to know what's okay. Sorry."

I swayed and leaned backwards, luckily, against the closed door, the wood hard and cold against my back. I shivered, but not from the cold; I could barely sense the temperature. I needed that contact! The reaction of my own body was leaving me shaking. The attraction of Heero was easy to rationalize – he was pleasing almost in an aesthetic sense, as a work of inhuman art, the Holy Grail of manhood– but Heero Yuy, standing there in his room, had a raw sexual appeal that I had never experienced before. Not like this. He thought he failed to seduce me! Gods, I was nearly crazy with lust I didn't want to have. I couldn't stand it!

"You mean you didn't read the addendum to the Gundam training manual: 'Finding and Securing Your Special Fuck-Buddy – For Idiotic Flyboys'?"

I wasn't sure if Heero would punch me or laugh.

"No, that was omitted from my manual," he said in a toneless voice, but then he smiled. The smile widened, reaching his eyes, and then we both laughed.

Whoa little doggies! The tense moment passed, but we needed to put some space between this contact and any future encounter; at least, I did and I assumed his glare agreed. I left him to dress, while I thumpety-thumped back to my room.

Hey, I could be as indecisive as I wanted! I could change my mind about the facts of life and how they applied to me as much and as often I needed to figure stuff out. Sally Po told me so. She said teenage boys do that; course, how would she know? Yeah, and when I'd say that to her she'd tell me, "Because I'm a doctor, Agent Maxwell."

But for all her credentials, she couldn't sort out the thoughts in my head or make me feel better about them—not that I shared any personal ones with her, mind you. Because as much as I was hot for Heero, I didn't want to come off as hot for Heero. I really, really had it ingrained in me that homosexually was a bad thing and I knew I could fight it if I tried, or bury myself in work, or roll it into a tight, little ball of guilt and stuff it way, way back into the deepest, darkest crevasse of my gray matter.

Yeah, like a license to buy drugs made Sally Po the know-it-all about my head. Let her examine someone else's head—Wufei's, for instance. He liked those bossy, older women types. Anyway, so I had this tornado in my brain, stirring up every thought and emotion possible, in order to not think about Heero's cock. I was the master of stealth, but, again, I was so distracted that I missed Heero stepping into my room.

"Duo."

His hand came out to touch my arm once more. He practically levitated me to my feet. His eyes were filled with, what? Deadly intent? _Oh, shit. I had seen him weak, vulnerable, and now he had to kill me._

Again, we stood there, very close, the only sound being the sound of our breathing. I didn't want to make him react impulsively and call him to action, so I tensed, freezing every muscle into a kind of rictus. _See? You don't need to kill me. I'm already dead. I'm more than dead; I'm Death itself! _

He closed the distance and nestled his body against mine, touching almost from head to toe, his breath warm against my ear.

We were both trembling a little—or just me, a _lot_.

I think it was just about that time that my resolve took a detour and vanished. I guess I decided that if I was going to die because I was a fag, I'd die a happy one. I wanted to hold Heero again, hear his heartbeat, and know that he was real and solid.

I was first to embrace him, my hands on his back, relishing the feel of his warm, bare skin. That seemed to electrify him. His hands gripped my shoulders, crushing his hard chest into mine. His breath was faster, more ragged. Then he took his hands away, and I could feel him tugging at his pants. In an instant he pressed against me again, and there was only the rough cotton of my sweatpants between us. Not believing what I was doing, I put my arms round him, feeling the smooth skin of his back, and pulled him closer. Heero, nude, holding me like this. And me holding him. The substance of my dreams – made flesh.

"Oh, gods," Heero gasped.

I was totally non-verbal in _my_ response. His hands reached for my pants, clumsily, and pulled them down as he effortlessly lowered me down onto the rug on the hardwood floor of my room. I winced, trying to keep my bum leg out of the way of his knees, but noticed his eyes widen at the sight of my very large hard-on. He sank on top of me, almost panting. His hands, rigid as his body, clutched at my mangled hair, half unbraided, and fanned out over the floor. His erection felt enormous against my belly, hot and rigid. He started moving up and down, and I gripped him, moving in response.

He gasped and moaned and the motion of his body quickened. A hot wetness spread between us as an orgasm like I had never experienced before overwhelmed my senses, blinding me. It was awesome and terrible at the same time. He collapsed onto me, gasping for air, his whole body limp across mine.

And I lay there under him, my own muscles unable to respond after such relief. I don't know when it was that Heero stirred again – we must both have fallen asleep.

He muttered, by way of an apology, "You must be squashed flat."

"No, it'sallright," I said in a slurry murmur.

Parts of me ached intensely at being pinned down, but I wasn't going to let him move until I had to. I moved my arm up, nearly resting my hand on the back of his neck, but then I froze. That was too intimate a gesture to make. That sounded stupid, with our two bodies pressed together as they were, but as I knew, sex and love were two different things. And sex was what had compelled Heero – me, too, if I were honest. He might understand what we had just been doing; we might both share this infatuation with each other, but not a lover's caress.

It was _he_ that stirred, and winced.

I chuckled, "We're probably stuck together now."

"Hnn."

I could feel his organ, limp now against my belly. We had certainly both come hard enough to cement us together for life. He rolled off me, and put his hand down to his belly and I to mine. I was no longer sticky, but I could feel the stiffness of our dried emissions.

"That was immense," I said.

"Yeah." There was a touch of awe in his voice.

_It sure was for a novice like me, but for him?_ He must have done all this before. Or…maybe not. I had no idea.

"I'm sorry about earlier," he whispered.

"I told you before – don't be. You couldn't help it."

"But I wanted to do this. I needed to."

_Okay._ "So did I."

He was silent for some minutes, and then sat up. "You were starting dinner?"

I knew when it was time to go. "Barely." I stumbled to my feet, groping for my pants. "What happened to them?"

"Here," Heero laughed softly. "I was ready to rip them off you."

"You nearly did." I barked a laugh. I rested on the edge of my bed and pulled the sweats carefully over the brace, while he dressed in another silence.

He flung my arm over his bare shoulders, which felt like an iron joist, and wrapped his muscled, braided-steel-cabling arm around my waist. "No more hopping." Acting as my support structure, he assisted me downstairs to stir up the campfire and rustle up some grub.

What to eat? Soup, that's easy. Can opener, pot, water? I tipped back, I thought, to prop myself against a counter, but there was nothing there. The air was cool against my back. I was rattled, thinking there had been a kitchen counter there, but finding I was turned around. My concentration was shot.

"Are _you_ all right?" Heero asked, standing a little ways off, uncertainty in his voice.

_Role reversal._ I fought to keep my balance as I swung around and looked a bit off to the side. I could just make out his features as he moved out of the shadows and into a pool of light from the single, dim, under-counter light.

"Yeah, I'm okay." _Absolutely. Yeah, right._

"You were standing there for a long time."

"Was I? Oh, well. Forgot where I was, you know?" _Shoot me._

"Your spatial orientation may be affected by the pain killers."

We both stood there, a few paces apart, staring at each other, neither of us moving, neither of us speaking, and time seemed meaningless. Then I sighed, "Yeah. Weird, huh?" _My innate talent gone? Yeah, I'd say that's odd._

"Sure you're okay?" he asked again.

I touched my leg. "Other than that? Well, actually, not really," I admitted finally. "Maybe the pain killers."

I wasn't "okay." I was reeling from him, my feelings, my excitement, my…him.

"Go back to your room; I'll help you with this later."

"No, gotta eat now that I'm down here."

Soup was in the can still and I had not turned on the burner.

"Hn," he agreed. "It is my night to cook, actually." Heero looked at a loss as to what he should do.

"Need me to walk you through toasted cheese sandwiches?"

"No. I can make those," he said with stoic seriousness.

I smiled encouragingly. Then he smiled.

Dinner progressed fine. We ate in companionable silence. Neither of us wanting to discuss what had happened, although it was obviously the only thing either of us was thinking about. We shared cleaning up the dishes duty; scrubbing, rinsing, drying. An itching in my groin pulled my body out of a stretch and I looked down, remembering what we'd done. I needed a bath badly. And some space. I wanted my hands on him and he wouldn't understand that. I mean, with the sex over he wouldn't want more contact. But I did. I really didn't want to hear him ask me what I was doing holding him. Yeah, I needed to put a few rooms between us before I did something stupid.

"I need a shower," I told him.

"Use these." He handed over the crutches I'd been ignoring.

"Hn," I grunted. Let him decipher _my_ meaning for a change.

End, It's a Vacation, Chapter Five.


	6. It’s a Vacation Chapter 6

**DEFYING GRAVITY**

**Part One:** **It's a Vacation**

**Chapter Six**

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Gundam Wing or its characters, nor do I make any monetary profit off this story.  
Warnings: 1x2x1, 3x4x3, AU, yaoi, some language  
--Kaeru Shisho 5/1/2007 14:50

* * *

I headed to my bathroom, pausing along the way to scratch my stomach through the shirt and drop the crutches by the door. When I looked at the huge bathtub, I knew a long hot soak was called for. My back ached from being crushed on the floor and my ankle was throbbing, though ice packs were what I needed for that. Hot and clean first, ice the ankle second. I took a few minutes to clear out the tangle of hair from the drain—mouse-sized—before cranking up the hot water. I dropped my pants. 

"I will help you and I need a bath, too."

"Shit, Heero! Don't sneak up on me like that!" I yanked them back up.

"You usually hear me. I brought this."

"Oh, my conditioner. Thanks."

Now that _that_ alarm was past, I just stared. I forgot to argue about not needing any help. He stood holding a bottle of hair conditioner in one hand and his towel in the other; other than that he was bare-ass naked. Man, he was perfect. Cock straight, growing from a nest of black hair. He could have had scars running from shoulder to hip and I wouldn't have noticed. He was comfortable in his own skin and completely artless as if this were a common duty: assist Duo in bath, nude. An army of OZ machine gun men could have stormed the cabin at the moment and I wouldn't have noticed, or given a flying fuck.

Steam billowed out over the top of the curtain, misting up the mirror. Heero had averted his eyes to the sink. "You use a disposable blade?"

"Uh, yeah. I lose anything else." I folded my shirt and set it aside.

"I shave once a week. Here and here." A finger rubbed his chin and his moustache line.

_Why were we talking about this?_

"Uh, lucky you. It's a daily thing for me for the past year or so. I hate it, but maintaining a mustache or beard would be worse."

"Hn." Heero moved closer. "All right? Need help removing the brace?"

"Lemme get this straight, um, we're…ah, you want to s-share a bath, right?"

"Yes."

_Yeah, just the one word_. _No elaboration necessary there, Heero, for the poor traumatized Duo. _

"Oh, yeah, okay." _More than okay._ "Ah, I'll get undressed and, yeah, that's good."

_Leave me to put it all in words, clarify what's going on, put my feelings on the line, asshole._

Of course, I was leaving him to make the moves, so I guess that made us sorta even. He seated me on the toilet and pulled off my pants the rest of the way, unfastened the Velcro bindings, and set the splint aside.

"Okay?"

_NO! You just tore off my pants for the second time in an hour!__ And your mouth is a dick's-length from my cock!_

"Yeah, it hurts, but then I've suffered worse."

"I'll ice it after the bath," he said and reached past me to pull back the curtain and test the temperature. After checking that there was soap in the tray and that the shampoo, conditioner, and razor were in reach on the floor, he stepped in and settled with his back pushed as far into the deep curb of the tub as possible.

"Ready."

_When had he decided to do this?_ My logical mind had shut down hours ago, I think, meaning I was running on instinct alone, and what my instincts were telling me to do was obscene. I wasn't sure if it would do me any good to let my conscience be my guide either. _Jiminy Cricket, my childhood icon of scruples, you do me no service_.

I gingerly dabbled a toe around while bracing an arm against the wall. "Hot!"

He turned the knob to cool the flow entering the tub. "You set the temperature, Baka. Try it now."

With a roll of my eyes, I said. "I just love it when you speak Japanese," adding in the back of my head_: naked in a bathtub looking up at me with that look of, dare I say, expectation_?

I think I think more than I actually say, which is a whole hell of a lot. Sometimes I say it aloud, and that's when my mouth gets me in trouble.

I bent over and let his arms support and guide me between his legs in an elaborately awkward move. Once settled, we just lay there like that awhile, feeling the water run over and around us. It was unimaginably cool and hot—both. I never wanted to move again. My heart was pounding like I'd run a footrace, and, to my delight, so was Heero's. We must have run it together. It was really nice to know he was affected by the intimate contact, too.

I could feel him shift beneath me, scooting down to cover his head with water. Hadn't he just showered and done his hair? But then, he had this suicidal tendency. Before I started to fear that he might try drowning himself for fun, he re-emerged. I thought he looked so different, with his hair flattened to his head. I slid my hands through it, angling it backwards, and smiled.

His face drew close with water running down his nose and cheeks. He asked, "Is this what you wanted?"

_How had you guessed?_

I certainly hadn't imagined this in my craziest dreams, but I hadn't been thinking about sharing a bath moments ago either. Maybe he was asking if this was better than being slammed against walls or crushed on the floor. Who the hell knew what he meant? Well, as they say, it was a good day for dying.

"Yeah!" I told him with an encouraging grin.

I reached for the soap and started rubbing a creamy lather in my hands as if I did this everyday.

"Okay," he smiled in return, eyes closed and calm.

As his arms lifted to push his wet bangs out of his hair, I cleaned his armpits, lightly teasing by pulling the soft dark hairs. He flinched.

"Hey stop that!"

"Ticklish?"

"Hn."

I maneuvered him around and started to rub the soap over his chest, my hands pressing and massaging his skin. Fine black hairs against his golden skin. I rubbed down his ribs and he gasped and cringed.

"Oh, definitely ticklish." I could not stifle my satisfied smirk.

"Yesss," he mock-snarled.

Pushing him back into the water, I rinsed him of the suds I had created. "Turn some."

"You order around all your conquests this way?" he asked.

"All? Ah, yeah, all _one_ of them. What, you think I've done anything like this before?"

Heero nodded slowly, then shook his head, then settled on a non-committal shrug.

"Now who's the idiot?" I said, slapping his shoulder.

He gasped and shut his eyes as the soapy massage commenced. My hands moved over his scarred shoulders, neck, chest and stomach, caressing his skin and rubbing the tension away. His eyes opened and he stared intensely into mine.

"Trying to read my mind?" I asked, tired of the silent glare.

"I have bathed, but not with another person," he said. "You are more out-going, so I assumed, more experienced."

"Nope. Pure as driven snow."

I think he chuckled. I gently circled his chest with light, slippery touches. Up until this point I had avoided anything major; still, just watching his reactions. With his eyes half-closed, lips parted, he was driving me wild.

Then he sent me over the edge.

He sat up, rising out of the water, and crushed his lips onto mine.

What else _could_ I do? I surrendered. Instantly, we were both moaning, mouths pressed together and tongues deep in each other's mouth. I'd never done that, or felt it, but I submitted to Heero's domination of my mouth with no problem. I felt a catch in my breathing and its echo in his. I clutched at his broad shoulders and concentrated all my attention on making the wonderful, wonderful feeling last as long as it possibly could.

It was about then that I knew a dramatic climax was about to overtake me. That in itself was a foregone conclusion, since two guys can't thrust and rub their slippery bodies together like we were doing for long without it resulting in an orgasm.

Okay, I had a sort of epiphany at this point. Sure we were getting off like that, but I knew in doing so we were expressing some important things about our feelings for one another, maybe; at least, I was. Yep, there was a very brief moment of enlightenment before my attention was drawn back to the carnal. Heero's fingers encircled my length; my back arched with the pleasure of it. It was the first time someone else had touched me there, and it was fantastic!

"You like that?"

"YES!" I cried out.

I felt the first wave of my climax hit, my body stiffened with the pulses, hard-pressed against his arm. He knew what was going on, tightening his hold with his other arm and gently kneading the muscles beneath, those hands, calming me, reassuring me without words. I hung on for support as the wave of pleasure washed over me.

"Oh, gods!"

When I could wrench open my eyes, proof of his obvious interest rose indefatigable and ready for action, breaking the surface of the water. He was panting and aroused and burning with desire I wanted desperately to do something about, although I didn't know what.

Then I thought of something.

"Hope you like this. Turn this way so I can wash your other side."

Without hesitation, he turned his broad back of velvety, golden skin. His narrow hips lay across mine as I was twisted awkwardly semi-sideways in the tub; his high round buttocks captured my imagination. Trying to keep my mind on my job, I lathered up my hands and slowly spread it over his shoulder blades, avoiding his hair. Across and down his neck, I continued to massage the large muscle running from his neck to his shoulders and down to the thin waist. Riding my hands over his lateral muscles and inwards I massaged into the depression either side of his spine.

His guttural noises assured me I was on the right track. I soaped up my hands again and worked over his lower back, starting at waist and sliding lower, massaging those hard cheeks of muscle, feeling them flex and move below the tight skin. My hand slipped, the fingers daring to enter the dark crevasse between. His body flexed and pulled away, and I tensed ready to block a punch.

With breeziness I wasn't feeling, I asked, "How can I clean you if you keep moving?"

"I'm not used to this, a-and I've never had anyone clean me _there _before." His voice sounded unsteady and nervous.

I chuckled. "Well, that's all right then, because I've never _done_ it before either."

He laughed and relaxed against my probing fingers.

Taking it slowly and enjoying it more because of that, I re-soaped my hands and slid them lightly in to the indentation above his tail bone. Half pulling him and half turning him I rubbed one soapy hand across the front of his waist and down.

Heero reached up and held onto the tub edge, while his body tensed, immobile in my arms. Again, I steeled myself for a bad reaction.

"Go on," he murmured.

My hands shook as I began moving lower in a circular motion. His muscles tensed and pushed against my hand. I truly wondered at my boldness. Had it not been the most exciting exploration I'd ever experienced and had his shudders and faint moans of enjoyment not been gaining in intensity, I probably would have finished up my own bath and gotten the hell out of there.

I cleaned each side repeatedly while crossing over that sensitive spot. I never imagined ever touching another person there…not just touching, but caressing! My other hand climbed to hold his erection with the skin slipping and sliding under my lathered hands.

Heero groaned even more, his hips jerking backwards and forwards and his knuckles white on the matching ivory porcelain tub edge. Gods, he felt so incredible and I was touching him! It electrified me.

His gyrating hips and my slick movement resulted in more moans. All the while Heero gripped the edge. I wanted to do that forever to him. It was all about timing and touch—when and where.

His body wanted to go in three directions at once trembling beneath my hands. I had to stop what I was doing to hold him. He groaned even more and whimpered, "I'm…I'm…" with uneven breath, then stopped and all his muscles tightened before white hot liquid erupted at the surface, my hand now jacking him off for all I was worth.

His choked cry surprised me. His hands released the tub edge and his arms nearly crushed the air out of me in a tight hold, embracing me until his breathing softened from the hard gasps. As he relaxed, he locked eyes with me, and that intense blue stare, softened.

I wriggled apart enough to breathe and said, "Ah, sorry I can't clean your legs but I can't get down there with you holding on to me so tightly."

His dark, lust-filled eyes bored into mine. "It wasn't my legs that needed washing. Move. It's your turn."

He mimicked my soaping up procedure with his hands, but applied the suds to my face. He reached over the tub and brought back the razor. I closed my eyes and let him shave me. I don't know if I liked it, trusting him not to slit my throat for having seen him in so vulnerable a state and for having touched him so intimately. Gentle strokes. A firm hand behind my head. The job was done efficiently and without the loss of blood.

"Turn."

I did as ordered, and we rearranged ourselves with me between his legs, back turned. I could feel him messing with what was left of my braid, pulling apart the weave.

"There," he murmured. My mop tumbled down and the long hair spread out in a curtain of brown against my back and into the water.

He pushed me forward, making more room between us, then pulled gently, lowering me backwards into the water. I sank under the water, thoroughly wetting my head, rinsing off, and then he helped me up.

"Tilt your head back," he ordered.

Strong fingers rubbed the soap into my scalp and through the heavy fall of matted hair hanging down past my shoulders. I didn't move. I let him wash and pull at the hair, cleaning it for as long as he wanted. So intimate, relaxing. I was putty in his hands.

He turned on the faucet and waited for the water to run hot.

"Okay. Rinse."

I leaned forward and down, and let him run his fingers through the tangle, rinsing all the soap out. When I sat up, he was ready with globs of conditioner.

"You must use a bottle a week."

"Nearly."

He worked a bit through his hair first, then tirelessly raked it through mine, untangling as he went.

"This is too much trouble. I would cut it off, if it were mine."

"Not me."

We both repeated the rinsing then he slicked my bangs to the side and over my ears, pressing the water out with both hands. Suddenly, the water still streaming out of the faucet changed to freezing cold. Both of us gasped with the shock and I leaned forward and slammed it off.

"Sorry, love, I can't wash you now."

It slipped out of him, passing his unknowing lips. It didn't register in his ears, but mine sure heard it! I felt my heart flutter, my eyes going wide with his words. I had never heard words of endearment meant for my ears alone. I pulled him into my arms, hugging him tight.

"What did I do? I'll make it up to you - I swear!" His voice shook with uncertainty.

"You already have," I murmured.

Then I kissed him deeply with all the passion I had to spare. He returned it with what felt like reluctance then pushed me away.

He said simply, "Getting waterlogged," as an explanation, then stood.

Heero pulled me out of the tub and set about drying me, ignoring the rivulets of water that ran down his body. I tried to return the favor but he refused.

"Forget it! I want to get that splint back on your leg."

After drying me, and strapping on the brace, he wrapped my hair in the big bath towel, the rest of me in a smaller one, and carried me to the couch, while I continued to complain about him getting cold. I didn't want to think about his return to objective-oriented-only activity, as if after he got what his body needed from me, we were back to pals again. Well, at least he hadn't left me in the tub and gone to bed.

"Shut up. Stay there. I'll be back with ice and a blanket."

I did. He did. I know, because I woke up hours later alone on the couch covered with a blanket, my hair a total disaster, and my ankle throbbing, and a bag of ice-turned-water on the floor. I squinted back the light pouring through the picture windows. Quatre hadn't been here to close them last night. He and Trowa and Wufei had gone. Heero and I had had sex together.

Let me reiterate the key point: Heero had sex with me, more than once. Okay, so guys who felt about each other the way we did were gonna die, but they'd sure the hell die with a smile on their faces. In a moment of clarity I counted the times we'd had sex and concluded that the perfect soldier had a perfectly outrageous libido.

I closed my eyes and sighed. I had slept like a log, a warm, inanimate, dead-to-the-world log, coming to life very, very slowly. There was no other sound except for the occasional spark and sputter of a crumbling brother-like log in the fireplace. I basked in the heat and brotherhood radiating from my log family.

"You awake?" Heero's voice sounded close.

"Am now," I said. I could smell bacon and coffee. "You made breakfast?"

"In process."

I could feel him hovering, staring at me. I registered cool air and fought to wake fully. "What? I grow a third leg since last night?"

In the most clinical way possible, he replied, "Your penis is very large."

The covers had slipped off and I was completely naked. I twisted around, found and yanked the blanket off the floor to stupidly cover myself, then sat up on the couch. I said the first thing that came to mind. "Shit! Yeah, well… How many cocks have you seen?"

"As many as you and in the same places… dorm showers, safe houses. I've never had sex with anyone else."

"Oh. Well, like I told you…never been touched. Hard to believe from an orphaned street rat, right?" I was awake now.

He shrugged ambiguously. "Do you need anything to dress your hair?"

"Yeah." _And my pants while you're in so accommodating a mood_, I nearly added, but didn't. I wanted to talk about the bath and not. I wanted a return to that intimacy and not. I wanted ... maybe a couple of other friends around to take the heat off and share the burden of conversation here.

He left and returned with a brush and band. I was happy to have something with which to occupy my hands.

"Our backgrounds are unusual."

"If you say so," I said, grinning because I knew mine had been but I didn't know much about his. "I can only speak for myself."

The brush actually passed through my hair easily, despite a night being loose and fancy free and looking like a rat's nest. Heero watched my movements intently. I couldn't tell if he wanted to touch my hair or chop it off.

"Understood. I should tell you about my past."

I would have agreed, but he just started in without my prompting him. I kept thinking how strange a way it was to wake up, and how weird it was to be talking like this with Heero. Like, a little sex and he suddenly needed to share life histories.

"When I was a born, I-I had no name. I became Heero Yuy later. For a while, I was raised by an assassin. When he died, Doctor J put me in the Gundam Wing. I fought. We won. I joined the Preventers."

"Heero Yuy: the post-it-note version," I chuckled.

"While you were on assignment this last time, there was _a change._"

"Yeah?" I dropped the smile and the half-formed braid and gave him my full attention. There was a heavy accent on the last words, pending additional explanation.

"I was standing with Barton and Winner in Chang's office. Barton looked surprised, ill. I asked him if he needed a doctor and he told me no. Something had just clicked on in his head, he said--"

"That happens all the time to the rest of us," I said, interrupting. "Did you tell him that was what thinking felt like?"

The corners of Heero's mouth quivered. "No. Winner was standing nearest and he stopped talking and reached out. I think Winner sensed he was about to fall, but Barton wasn't that ill. Instead, Barton just grabbed him and kissed him."

"For the first time you think?" I asked. "I thought this was their coming out, this vacation, but I guess I missed a lot not hanging out around the shop."

Heero nodded. "Yes, I think so, although, they had gone out together the day before. Possibly not their first...experience, but, still, Winner appeared very…surprised. However, from his reactions I determined that he found Barton's aggression acceptable."

I laughed. "Guess you might say that! So, what was Trowa's explanation? 'I suddenly got the balls to make a move on you?'"

Heero's eyes dilated. "Very close. Barton said it was like a light being switched on in his head. And he said he took my advice and did as his heart told him."

"He said that?"

"Yes," Heero said with the faintest of smiles. "He wanted, needed sex; felt it strongly. Two weeks ago, it happened to Wufei. Wufei came to our office and said he had distracting urges. He misinterpreted my reaction."

"Oh, something funny?"

"He punched me. Trowa pulled him off and he cooled down. He thought I was about to kiss him."

"Oh, wow! I wish I coulda been there to see 'Fei-man's expression. That hair of his, pulled back within an inch of its life, that punishing, arrogant expression turned to one of horror. 'Eeeeuw! Yuy's gone bonkers like Barton and now he's going for my virgin tonsils!'"

Heero looked astonished, but when I laughed, or because I laughed, he saw the humor in my act and chuckled. Hey, with a little encouragement I could go on and on, so I did.

"And then 'Fei declares, 'If you so much as stare at me I'll punch your lights out!' To which Trowa steps in and says. 'He's been staring at you for years and managed to resist your tempting charms so far.' Then Wufei, he pinches his nose, you know that mannerism denoting victimization, and says, 'If you feel humor at my expense will get you both through this terrible adjustment time, then by all means continue—'"

Heero wheezed and coughed, his breath coming in ragged pants, as laughter, real out-of-control laughter shook his world. I laughed along with him.

"You know, most guys talk sports, since we don't have that we gotta ridicule our friend's behavior. It's in the genes, I swear!"

He rolled on the floor, holding his sides. I think he was in pain, but it was a good kind of pain, so I let him be. Eventually, he caught his breath and wiped his eyes.

"Did you watch a video of us?" he asked.

"Nah, I just watch, listen, and learn from the geeks and nerds. So, anyway, did you guys solve the big mystery?"

"Yes. We determined that the Gundam pilot conditioning included hormone controlling drugs, and at the age of eighteen they wore off."

"Makes sense. That's why we stayed so short."

"We think so, and tests on Chang by Doctor Po confirmed a surge in his, ah, hormone production. Since then we have grown and put on muscle weight. Trowa's grown two inches in six months—all of us have, since we are all relatively the same height. It also equipped us with the normal sex drive for men our age. It-it happened to me."

"Oh." I was disappointed to learn that it wasn't just my charm and personality that attracted him to me; it was hormones. Well, that wasn't the case for me. "Ah, no problem there with me. I wanted it since I was ten. And as far as Quatre goes, drugs never affected him in that department either. Just the growth inhibitor." I was glad he didn't ask me how I knew that, either, because I wasn't about to rat on my bud. Quatre had only confided his 'crush' on me a few days ago, but I knew of his others.

"Different treatments," he nodded.

"Well, I guess that answers a question or two, but ah, why'dya pick me? Ah, not that I'm complaining or anything." _You did call me 'love' in the throes of your after-sex high._

He reached out with one hand and stroked my hair. "I like you. I study your reactions and learn from you how to feel. This…is incredible. That I can touch this." He gazed, mesmerized by my hair as tendrils slid past his fingers. "And you have a great body."

His eyes swept my torso as if to remind himself how close at hand it was, but I pulled the blanket tighter. I was mad he couldn't say that he gave a damn about me and how I felt. It wasn't as if this was all about him and his drives, or was it? I caught the end of my hair, dragging it all into a ponytail.

"Yeah, well…I like my pencil sharpener at work, too. Good design. What made you think I'd want you any more than Wufei did?"

"Nothing. I was prepared for rejection."

"You didn't think I was a queer or anything?" I divided my hair in back and began intertwining the locks with practiced precision.

"No."

"Not at all? Trowa thinks its a given."

"You touch a lot and the girls at work complained that you didn't date them. No guarantee, but it improved the odds."

"I'm a tactile guy and I didn't have time for dating." I finished the braid off, fixing the band to the tip. "What about you?"

"I enjoyed what you and I did and want to do it some more."

_Okay, that was evasive._ I couldn't look him in the eye, but I grinned. "You like girls, too?"

He looked thoughtful, as if he had to really study the question first. "I'm not attracted to them." Heero made a face and shrugged. "I am no expert in reading people, but I know several like me. I find them the most annoying."

"Keeping it real, eh?" I chuckled. "So, what next?"

"You tell me about yourself." He settled onto the couch, arms spread over the back, eyes riveted to mine.

"My turn?"

"Yes."

"Okay," I folded my arms behind my head and let out my breath in a long, slow stream. "Wee-ell. I'll keep this short. Just the highlights for now, 'cause I wanna eat, okay? O-kaay, so, my family was a gang of homeless kids, the oldest a boy named Solo. He was my first love, the brotherly sort, and he died before the rest of us were taken into the Maxwell church war orphanage. I was…"

"Eight, approximately," Heero said.

"Yeah. How did you know?"

"The name. My name means 'the one and only.' 'Solo' means the same thing. When he died, I was eight also and I got my name. It was fate."

"You mean, like you and I were destined to meet and… ah… like each other?"

"Yes."

"Well, that blows."

"Why, what do you mean?"

"I'm more of a free will sort of guy, personally. My choice, not some preordained—"

"Shut up, Maxwell," Heero said, and then smiled. "I made that up."

Heero had joked with me!

"Ha! Well, sure…heh, heh… yeah…that's pretty funny. Yeah, a good one, but…ah, still, one thing bothers me, well, more than the hundred thousand other things bugging the shit out of me. How did you know I was eight?"

"You talk in your sleep, Duo. Asleep, awake—you talk more than anyone else I know."

"Well, someone's got to! Left up to you and Trowa…and Wufei, there'd be nothin' more than a bunch of grunts all day long."

And just to set me straight he grunted, "Hn."

"That's enough for now. I wanna eat."

He nodded and led the way into the kitchen, me wrapped in a blanket, and only a blanket, leaning on his arm.

He had composed a thoughtful meal, bit burned, but I ate it all. Afterwards, I offered to clean up, but he shook his head and told me to go get dressed. When I stumped back downstairs again, he was finishing a conversation on his cell phone. I stuffed my hands in my armpits and watched as Heero busied himself with his coat and boots.

"Going someplace?" I asked.

"The chains are in. I will be back shortly."

Before I could ask him how he planned to get to the shop, he dashed upstairs and returned with one set of the cross country skis and poles he'd bought.

"Okay, so we're leaving here today? Ah, well, then I'll do some packing, I guess."

"Check the weather report. If the next storm hits soon, we don't have to."

Then he left. Was I supposed to want to go, or not? His laptop was on the kitchen table, waiting, so I opened it, powered it up, and checked the weather reports. No change. I checked my email. I fought the temptation to break into his files, but decided that if he hadn't bothered to delete his internet history files, then it was an open invitation. I was stunned by the number of gay porn sites he'd visited recently. I followed the links and read.

A log sparked and fell into a heap of coals, the sound interrupting my reading. Snow fell hard out the window. Heero wasn't back, but I knew he would be back. He had traveled through far worse conditions in far worse health to a far less welcoming destination and made it fine.

I returned to my reading. Either Heero was studying gay-sex techniques in detail or he was fascinated by naked men fucking each other or he was trying to figure out if he and I fit the category, or all of the above. As much as my brain repelled, my eyes remained glued to the screen. What seemed disgusting once, on repetition, became interesting, tweaking my curiosity and then desire. I wondered if Heero felt the same way. Would he want me to try that, any of that? He certainly didn't mind my hands on him.

After another half hour, after discovering that Heero had not visited a single hetero-sex site, I drew a few conclusions. Heero was gay. He didn't like girls. He said he liked me. No one else knew this about him, except possibly his partner, Trowa. I wondered if Trowa was also Heero's confidant.

Heero left his laptop here for me to find these sites and make my own decision. I wasn't sure what to think about myself. I was curious about girls, so I entered a few hetero sites and read and watched. I may have spent more time looking at the exposed guys than the girls. I wondered if I might like both. What kind of queer freaky guy did that make me?

Still, if Trowa, Quatre, and Heero could be okay with this, I could, too. Solidarity and all that, you know? And we'd be sharing a house. That would be interesting. No wonder they wanted to! But Wufei… how would he feel if he knew that the four of us were…gay. _There, I said I was gay. Damn_.

It was snowing hard. I made no attempt to cover my networking tracks, but simply shutdown the computer and stirred up the fire. Come on, Heero. Time to come back.

He was taking an inordinate amount of time.

The Wii was gone.

I picked up a book and stared at the pages.

Heero…

End, It's a Vacation, Chapter Six.


	7. It’s a Vacation Chapter 7

**DEFYING GRAVITY**

**Part One:** **It's a Vacation**

**Chapter Seven**

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Gundam Wing or its characters, nor doI make any monetary profit off this story.  
Warnings: 1x2x1, 3x4x3, AU, yaoi, some language  
--Kaeru Shisho 5/1/2007 14:50

I wasn't worried about Heero, I told myself, as I struggled upstairs to my bedroom to locate my cell phone. I found it in a dirty sock, nearly battery-dead, but all I needed was one call to Heero. _What if he didn't answer, then what would I do? Wouldn't I need to make another call for help?_

So, I was standing at the foot of the stairs, poised, phone in hand, uncertain whether to call him or attempt a one-legged search and rescue mission, when I heard the roar of an unfamiliar engine outside. I pocketed the phone and danced to the door. Hop, slide, slide, hop, slide, slide. I opened it and saw a snowmobile cruise into a lazy curve, the driver bringing Heero right to the steps.

"Hey!" I shouted, elated.

Heero said something to the driver, shook his hand, grabbed a couple sacks and his ski equipment, and bounded off.

"Duo, sorry. That took longer than I thought it would. The car shop manager gave me a ride back." He smiled wanly. "He didn't think I could make it back carrying the snow chains. You weren't…worried, were you?"

"Not much," I scratched my head, grinning. "Good thing you didn't need me. I'm pretty worthless."

Heero's expression bordered on incredulous. "You saved that boy and prevented me from injury while escaping with only a few contusions and a sprain. I'd say you are a valuable asset. I, ah, never even thanked you for that."

"No problemo, buddy!" I laughed, giddy with relief to have him back. "Anything I can carry in for ya?"

"No, I'll be fine."

"Okay, ah, can I borrow your cell phone recharger? I don't think I brought mine."

"Of course," he said. His eyes caught mine.

"I, ah, just got this out in case, you know?" I was fingering my cell phone.

"You were worried."

"Getting prepared-- just in case. Hey, if you hadn't come back, I would have been stranded here, helpless!"

He smiled and chuckled. "You are the most self-reliant person I've ever known. I can't imagine you feeling helpless."

"Oh, yeah? Well in that case, let me carry something."

He dropped a heavy sack by the car, chains by the noise it made, and handed me the ski poles. "If you insist."

I managed to avoid poking myself in the foot on my way through the living room, then dropped them by the staircase. "So, I figure we are staying another night, right?"

"Yes. The snowplows are busy, but more snow is on the way. I called the rental office to inform them of our change in plans, and then bought a few things in town, which is why I was delayed."

I eyed the smaller bag in his hand. He kept it close and always on the side away from me. He noticed my attention on the bag and tightened his grip.

"Just curious," I said.

"Later. Dinner?"

"What did you bring home?"

"Something simple to prepare. Pasta and sauce and sausages."

"Great. I'll start the water," I said.

"I'll…be right down." He started for the stairs, and then hesitated. "You look…good."

"So do you," I said, and I put a lot of meaning into that, too, not wanting him to think that I meant "healthy and hale."

He got it and smiled.

I had a microwaved cup of tea waiting for him, the sauce warming, the Italian sausages sizzling, and the water nearly ready for the pasta when he reappeared, clothed in dry pants and socks, his blue t-shirt the color of the slate tiles around the fireplace. He warmed his hands around the mug immediately.

"Thanks."

"Sure," I said. He had the bag with him and I wanted to know what was inside. "Dessert?"

"No. You can have what's inside when we eat."

I dumped the pasta into the water, gave it a stir, before joining him at the table. "Can't wait."

"Go on, then. It's for you." He nudged the bag closer to me.

Instantly I had my hand inside. "More hair conditioner?" I couldn't keep the disappointment from my voice, I guess.

He smiled and nodded. "You were out. There's more."

I turned the bag upside down and shook. "A …ah… hair twisty? Ah, gee…thanks, Heero."

He laughed. _At me_. "Hold out your hand, baka."

"Okay, but if this is something lame, don't bother. Just leave it on the table." I got up to stir the pasta, and returned, but the table was clear except for his outstretched, closed hand.

"What is it?" I asked. Whatever it was it was small enough to fit in his fist.

"Open it."

I ran a finger along his large knuckles, tickling the hairs first, then pushed his thumb and first finger apart, separating them from his fist. I had a devilish thought and acted on it. I bent over and licked his fingers, forcing my tongue where his thumb had been and pushing inside the clenched fist. I smiled at the sound of his quick intake of breath, and continued to push and wriggle my way past the finger barrier. I tasted something metallic, and sucked my tongue into my mouth, surprised.

His hand slowly unfolded like a flower revealing a band of gold on his palm. I stared at it as if it were raw meat.

"It's for you," he said, his voice low.

"It's a ring!"

"Yes."

"I can't…we can't… You know the rules! We can't wear rings on the job. No one can."

"I know. It demonstrates an important tie to someone that can be used against you, should you be caught. But you aren't going undercover-- for awhile, at least. You can wear it on the chain with the cross, unless you don't want it at all."

Which was the real point, after all. _Did I want it?_ He just said it symbolized a tie to him, that I was important to him. Others would see it and know about us. _Did I want that? _

"It's kinda fast."

"I didn't want you to think I only wanted you for sex."

"Oh. Well. Um… that's good."

"You have good character traits. I wish I had them."

"Yeah?"

"My counselor said I lacked emotional openness. She said close relationships were based on shared feelings. If I remained closed off, no one would trust me with their feelings. You have excellent qualities. You are generous, you have integrity, and you care about the future. Your self-esteem is low, but I don't know why."

I was stunned. I didn't want to talk about this. Heero was talking about having a relationship, but was that what I wanted? I had been infatuated with him for years it seemed, but with the real possibility of a relationship presented to me, I felt as if I'd been punched in the gut. I was still trying to accept the whole 'gay' thing. I certainly wasn't ready to 'come out' to the world. The ring would do that.

"People would ask where it came from, who it was from," I mumbled.

"They might."

"I-I wouldn't know what to say."

"It shames you to be attached to me?"

_Well, yes and no. _I tried to think of how to put it that didn't sound outright insulting.

"Should I have bought lube and condoms instead?" His voice turned hard. "Is that what you want?"

I was more stunned. "N-no!"

The pot boiled over, bubbling pasta water spilling over the edges and scorching the burner. "Damn!" I yelled and hopped over to remove the lid and stir it down.

Heero was at my elbow with the pot holders. "It is ready to drain?"

"Yeah."

He did the honors, while I found a serving bowl. I poured the sauce over the pasta and tossed, then divided it onto two plates. He opened two soft drinks and set forks and napkins on the table. The sausage was done, so I forked one on each plate and placed a plate in front of Heero and sat down with the other. He and I avoided looking at one another. We acted like we'd both just been circumcised, and if we talked to each other everybody would know. He took a few bites then stared at me.

"Are you in any pain?" he asked.

I was. I hadn't noticed until then, and all of a sudden I noticed. My leg hurt, like fury down by the ankle and spreading up to above the knee. And the right side of my head, a dull ache like ocean waves.

He clasped one of my hands. "You're shaking. I upset you."

"Hell, yes!" I said.

He pointed to my head. "What's going on inside this, Duo?" He tapped the side of my head. "It's not easy for me either."

"I know. Damn it all, Heero, I don't know. It's like we're eighteen going on thirty. I'm still getting my head around us being real good friends here. The sex. That was great, don't get me wrong, but a week ago I woulda denied the possibility. I didn't know you were gay. You are, aren't you, or am I really stupid?"

"Yes."

"Okay, well I don't know about you, but I _just_ came to that conclusion and I'm not real excited about it. All my life I've avoided—" I paused to take a deep breath and think before I spoke. "I like you, a lot, I'm just not ready to make it public, I guess."

I could not look him in the eye when I said that. I knew if I saw that I'd hurt him, I'd die. I was such a coward.

"Understood. I'll return the ring tomorrow." His turn to sigh.

"Oh, no, don't do that!" I enclosed his hand in mine and managed to find the balls to look him directly in the eye. "Hold onto it."

"Then, you mean I should ask you later?"

"Yeah, lots later. Another time. When I'm more used to all this, okay?"

"All right, although," he smiled wistfully into his soda, "I wish you came with a manual. It would make this much easier."

We ate the food and eased back into companionable silence for awhile. The headache eased, and I popped a pain pill for the rest. Fifteen minutes later, the throbbing in my leg faded. I needed to talk to someone about what I was going through, someone not Heero, someone not so involved. Quatre. He'd help me sort out my feelings. I had to talk to my bud. Heero broke the quiet.

"You still want to move, to live with me and the others?"

"Yeah, I think that's gonna do me some good. You know? Growing up, fitting into the normal adult world for once. And with you guys around, yeah, it'll be great."

"Agreed. But—"

"But?"

"I cannot promise to leave you alone."

"Gods, I hope not!" I laughed. "I'd go clinically bonkers if I had to watch you shimmy about the house and not ever touch me or anything."

"Shimmy? I don't wobble when I walk."

"Hmmm, but your ass sways," I said grinning in what I hoped was a winning way.

"Maxwell," he growled.

I think I was getting him all excited; I sure was all of a sudden. I hopped away from the table and stacked dishes in the sink. I turned on the hot water and squirted soap into the largest. "That will do."

I also made it a point to shimmy, waggling my butt so the tip of my braid swung back and forth over it, in case he was watching me.

"Are you dancing?"

"Could be."

"You're not singing, though."

"I could—"

His hands were on my hips. He spun me around, supporting my braced leg. Gods, his eyes were black for the second they met mine before he sank to his knees and pulled the cord on my sweatpants.

I know I gasped with shock. "Ah…!"

He pealed my pants and boxers below my knees in a single, hard shove, then finding my half-hard-on in his face, opened wide. I dug my fingers into his shoulders to keep from falling and moaned, loudly. I hadn't dreamed of anything so exciting, so damned hot at this, ever.

Then I looked down. "Gods_…"_

Seeing his face, seeing my two favorite things together like that shook my control. I bucked uncontrollably, messing over those lips, his face, in his hair. My knees trembled with the effort of holding myself up, my chest expanding and shrinking with the rapidly drawn breaths. His hands steadied me by the cheeks of my ass.

We hadn't said a word to one another.

As my breathing settled down I eased up on my death-grip to his shoulders, freeing him to get to his feet. Damn, his knees must have hurt. I dared another look down and caught him licking his lips on his way up. His face was barely an inch away; his eyes drilled into me.

I drew him close, our faces tilting expertly now, as the kiss started. His soft lips overlapped mine, his tongue lingering at the entrance of my mouth running around the super-sensitive inside. I tasted my own come and was not impressed, but that hardly mattered.

We pressed tightly together, losing our shirts, and Heero's pants. The feel of his skin wherever my hands stroked and caressed—it was the best feeling ever. My tongue roamed in search of his, only for it to slip and slide along it fleetingly before feeling his tongue retreat inside his mouth.

_How could this dangerous, hard man be so gentle?_

My body slumped against his, even as my hands and lips tried to hold him. I pressed into him, rocking my body against his. Heero pulled away, separating us as I moved forward with him. He looked down and I followed his gaze. I was steadily climbing back to full mast.

In a slightly self mocking tone I whispered, "Gods! What have you done to me?"

His face lifted and he closed the distance between us. "Love you any way I can."

This time I locked my lips to his, my tongue ramming into his mouth as my hands pulled his shoulders into me. His eyes widened as he returned my dreamy gaze, his deep blue-rimmed pupils so wide I felt I could fall into their depths forever.

The kiss went on, my body wild with our contact. My soul in my mouth, I felt warmed and exhilarated with each touch of his tongue. But…

I broke the kiss.

"Something's wrong?" he asked, his vice husky. "I can feel the tension in your back," he added, in case I was going to deny it.

"You're, ah, rubbing my cock. It's still a bit sensitive, you know?"

"Sorry!"

"I didn't say it was _hurting_ me," I said with a smile and saw a matching smile spread across his face. "Don't be sorry about it. Do something about it instead."

By wrapping my arm over his shoulder, Heero could carry most of my weight, allowing us to sorta walk hip-to-hip. He guided me up the stairs and into his small bedroom. After pulling the sheet and blankets down to the bottom, Heero pushed me onto my back and gently lowered himself on top. Stickiness slid across my hips and stomach until his firmness ended up pressed into my gut. Our lips drew together, and I roamed over his soft skin with my rough hands as our tongues danced and caressed.

The weight of him lying on me, the pressure from his groin on mine as we rubbed and slid along each other was getting me hotter than I thought possible. This was better than that time in the bathtub. I was fast approaching the point of no return again. I tried to slow down, to enjoy us being together longer but Heero seemed intent on speeding up, grinding in to me.

I tried to pull away from the kiss and get my breath, but he seemed to require that contact, so after dislodging him, his lips just traveled down the side of my face and found my ear. Heero nibbled and suckled on my earlobe as I panted, trying to stop the orgasm, willing it not to happen. Like a limpet his mouth latched on and his tongue forced its way into my ear, but I could no longer stem the tide.

With the release, a peaceful lassitude and love for this strange man swept over me. I gently slid my hands down from their tenacious grip on his shoulders and lightly stroked my way down his sides. I slid them onto their favorite home, where they always wanted to go. I heaved him down, mashing us together. With a groan, Heero quivered as his muscles clenched with nowhere to go.

With our passion spent the steady pace of time lost its measure. Heero tried to lift his weight from me but I gripped him tighter yet, not ever wanting to be freed of that burden.

He settled against me, his head resting by mine. Our breathing returned to normal as my hands gently caressed all within my reach. Heero tried to get up again and once again I pulled him back. He lifted his head and looking down at me, his eyes roaming around my face before looking deep into my eyes. He pecked quickly at my lips and I tried to lift my head to take all those kisses and return them in a slow sensual one but he withdrew back.

"At least let me pull up the sheets, my back is cold," he said.

I released him immediately, ashamed of my selfishness. Heero pecked my lips once more and then rose onto his knees, letting the cool air rush between us, chilling against my warm skin. He reached behind for the sheet and blankets pulling them up over us as I guided him back down on top of me.

Settling his hard chest on mine I pulled the blankets up over our shoulders as Heero initiated a long, slow and very deep kiss. Our heads rocked against each other as we tried to reach deeper parts. We turned slightly, inching our way to our sides, arms locked around each other, guiding our movements through one kiss after another. I felt happy and peaceful in his arms, safe from the outside world knowing he'd protect me, and I him, if I had to.

"I… I love how this feels," he said.

His voice cracked, suffused with rare emotion, but what he'd said rankled. Maybe he could tell by the set of my jaw, because he tightened his hold, constricting my chest enough to make me gasp for air, and then released me.

"Well, no shit," I said. "That's why guys dig sex, ya know?"

"This." He squeezed again, a little harder to make his point. "This. I like this. Us like this."

"Oh, well…yeah." I hid my blush with my bangs. "This is nice, too."

"You want to do this in our place? Share a… space?"

"Um, sometimes, but I still want my own room."

Heero nodded. "I cannot hide that things have changed between us, not from Trowa, and Quatre can read you like a book."

"Oh, yeah."

"They will figure us out-- _you_ out," he emphasized that part.

"I don't think Quatre and Trowa will care at all."

"Care that… what's to care about?"

"Um, we're, um, gay." I met his eyes. "And that we like each other, right?"

"Yes." He smiled. "About time you realized it."

I was crazy in love, but I didn't admit to that depth of feeling. "I'm beat. Why am I so tired? I feel like I've been run over by a Gundam."

"Maxwell?"

"Huh?"

"Shut up and go to sleep." He chuckled low and sexy as hell as he rolled me over on top of him.

I translated, "Chill."

"You want more blankets?"

"No!" I barked a laugh. "Chill _out_. Peace. Good night." I kissed him lightly and snuggled onto my uncomfortable cushion.

Tired and contented, wrapped in the least resilient arms imaginable, head resting on his granite-hard chest, feeling his gentle breath on my cheek, I drifted off to sleep.

For about two hours.

Heero landed on the floor with a curse. Who kicked whom hardly mattered; the small bed was just too small for two energetic young men.

"'Sa'right," I slurred in half-awareness. "I'll go ta my room."

"No, stay where you are. I'll go to your bed," Heero said. He tossed the covers over my back and left.

(o)

I woke up the next morning stiff with dried sweat and freezing. I cranked up the room wall heater, wrapped up in the blanket, and staggered to the bathroom. My braid looked like a cat's tail with the stray hairs flying about. I didn't even try to brush it out. Instead, I climbed into the shower and let the water stream over it. My razor was downstairs so I skipped shaving.

I crawled on my hands and knees into my room so as not to awaken Heero with my hopping. He was wrapped around my pillow, his nose filled with eau de Maxwell. Man, that was so cool. I had to stop and look and was tempted to crawl in there with him, but I figured if he could sleep this soundly, let him. So, I silently unzipped my bag, removed a sweater and sweatpants, and crawled back into the room with the heater to dress. The heater was too lame for my hair; it hardly warmed the air, so, half-sliding down the banister, I made my way downstairs to dry my hair and re-construct the braid by the fire.

Sadly, we hadn't fixed the fire the night before. The room was frigid. The only good thing about the cold was how it numbed the pain in my leg and shoulder. Each day since the accident, a new set of muscles made themselves known with aching annoyance. Today it would be the shoulder I'd landed on.

I poked and prodded the dying embers back to life, then sat, shivering on the stone hearth until the flames caught the new wood with a roar. _Good enough._

I found our clothes from the night before strewn about the room, and collected the items in an empty grocery bag. _More dirty laundry to take home._

Setting the bag by the front door on my way to the kitchen, I wondered how long it would be until I could wear pants again. I wanted to show off my new clothes. _Will I be lounging around in just sweat clothes in my dormitory room for the next two months or until we get a house? _

No, I decided. I wouldn't let the other agents see me like that. Maxwell down and out from a tubing accident, for gods'sakes! Sally Po'd let me stay in the Preventer's sickbay until we moved.

I wished we had that house right now so I wouldn't have to go back to the Preventer's rooms. I washed the spaghetti pot from the night before, dried it, and then partially unpacked the box I had just packed the day before, searching for the coffee and tea. I imagined the house, sharing with my friends, and having my own room. A room in a house that was mine-- I'd never had that. I filled two mugs with water, shoved them into the microwave, and jabbed the start button. I kept thinking how I could really get used to this, getting up to my own place, as long as the place included one particular roommate, who I could hear moving around upstairs. The next few weeks- it couldn't possibly be months until we moved out, could it?- back at the Preventer's dormitory was going to suck.

I thought about that gold ring and my stomach lurched. I wished I could just be damned enthused about that thing. He was coming. The timer beeped. I felt his warmth on my back as he lifted a hunk of my hair and tugged it.

"You already showered?"

"Yeah, I reeked. Here," I handed him a mug with a tea bag. "I gotta go dry by the fire."

"I'll take your coffee, too." He frowned at my mug. "Did you just pour grounds into the water?"

"Yep. Couldn't find the filters. 'Sokay, though. We can stop for breakfast on the way out and I'll get something better."

"Eat out. Yes."

He turned and led the way to the couch. I was going to miss that couch. I untangled, brushed, re-braided as he watched and sipped his tea. His cell phone buzzed.

"Yuy," he answered. "Yes, we have the chains and it looks clear outside. We are packed. I'll ask." He looked at me. "Trowa says we can see the house this afternoon, as soon as we leave here, if you're up to it. He sounded excited."

"Trowa excited?" I grinned. "Sure. The sooner the better."

He smiled. "Agreed. We will meet you there. Got the address. Call with the time. Out." He pocketed his phone. "Quatre is pulling strings."

"He can pull all he likes. I don't care as long as it gets us a place sooner."

"He's likely to lay out some money on our behalf."

I was feeling strangely good. Nothing could ruffle me. "Let him. He's got millions and it makes him happy."

"Getting a house makes you happy," Heero stated as fact.

"You betcha! Never had a house."

"I will show you how to do laundry, although, I don't know how we'll keep a place clean, and if there's yard work--"

"We can handle that. It will be great."

"I like you optimistic." Heero leaned over and kissed me. "Having you around will be great." He checked his watch. "I'm going to shower fast. I'll bring our bags down."

"Okay. I'll search the downstairs for any forgotten things and repack the kitchen box."

I didn't move, but nor did he for a half minute. My cock was hard. Just thinking about him naked in the shower did that to my body, and I hated my body for revealing so much about how I felt. He seemed to have abundant control over his reactions. Then he smiled and adjusted his loose sweatpants. Maybe not.

"I won't be long," he said.

He wasn't gone over fifteen minutes. When he came down, he was loaded with our bags, mostly my clothes, new and for the most part unworn. I still hadn't moved.

"Don't get up."

"I won't," I assured him with a lazy smile.

"Find anything left to pack?"

"No," I said. I breathed out a deep, care-free sigh. _But then I haven't looked._

"I'll load up the car. Stay off your leg."

"Okay," I said. I was mellowed out. I didn't need a shrink, I just needed to get laid three times a day. By Heero. I was crazy and I didn't care, although I knew I would eventually.

"I'll need your help getting the chains on," he said.

"Ah, sure. I can do that." _Possibly, if I could lug my ass off the couch one last time._

One thing about the cold, it shriveled desire; at least, it did for me. After struggling to load the car and attach the chains, all I wanted to do was fire up the heater and go. Heero was gazing off into the wild beyond.

"Um, Heero?"

"I'm going to miss this place," he said.

"Me too," I found myself saying. "I'll bet it's terrific in summer with the lake and no snow."

"Would you like to come back then? I think Quatre was arranging a beach house, but he'd change it if you wanted."

"Maybe we can do both. Or, maybe we'll all be sick of one another's faces and not want to do anything."

His expression turned tender, his eyes locked on mine, but soft. "Never."

I swallowed, mute.

"The engine's warm enough, we can go. I'll drop the keys at the office and then stop for breakfast here in town. Quatre might call with further instructions by then. Is that okay with you?"

"Let's hit the road."

I wrapped my arms around my chest to retain warmth, settled into the car seat, and arranged my bruised body to be as comfortable as possible. What a vacation! In one week, I was a new man. I'd arrived exhausted, on edge, showing irrational paranoid behavior, and now I was leaving with a new found sexuality, a new outlook, a new home, and, most importantly, a new boyfriend, if I wanted him, if I could accept it all. Yeah, it was the end of my vacation, but not of my story, because what happened next wasn't at all what I was expecting.

End, It's a Vacation, Chapter Seven.

**End. Part One: It's a Vacation. **

**Arc TBC in the next story:**

**DEFYING GRAVITY**

**Part Two: It's Back to Work**


	8. It’s Back to Work Chapter 1

**DEFYING GRAVITY**

**A Romance in Three Parts**

**Part One: It's a Vacation  
Part Two: It's Back to Work  
Part Three: It's Another Vacation **

Gravity is a law of nature. It holds you to the Earth.

Grounding you.

As a kid, a grounding could restrict me to a certain place as a punishment.

As a pilot, a grounding could prevent me from flying.

And as an civilian, I never wanted to be your average, well-grounded guy.

All my life, I have struggled against that force and laughed in the face of laws that compel me to follow them.

Challenging, disobeying, treating with contempt,

Duo Maxwell,  
Defying Gravity.

* * *

**DEFYING GRAVITY**

**Part Two:** **It's Back to Work**

**Chapter One**

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Gundam Wing or its characters, nor do I make any monetary profit off this story.  
Warnings: 1x2x1, 3x4x3, AU, yaoi, some language

--Kaeru Shisho 5/1/2007 14:51

* * *

We acquired the house with a year-to-year lease and moved in the next weekend. Winner wrangled furnishings to remain in the house for our use, like the tables, chairs, couches, washer and drier. We ordered beds to suit our tastes and Winner applied the pressure for weekend delivery. With four of us supplying the muscle moving in was over in an afternoon. 

Duo, staying off his strained ankle, unloaded the kitchen boxes. Only he would know where to find anything in there for the next few weeks. He could claim domain over the kitchen or the whole place, as long as he found his way to my room at night.

Because none of us owned anything of value, which wouldn't fit in a locker- except for Winner- it didn't seem practical to even lock the doors. We, however, had our enemies and our ingrained war habits. Barton, Duo and I installed a state-of-the-art security system. Barton and I placed the sensors, while Duo implemented the necessary programming. Winner and Chang tested it, but they are not the best at infiltration; Barton and Duo are.

Chang knew that this exercise was mostly for Duo's benefit. He needed to be kept busy and off his feet. Being injured with limited mobility conflicted with his outgoing personality and active, growing body. I was pleased to discover that Duo still chose me with which to work off of his excess energy. When his injured ankle could fully support his weight again, I promised to show him the joys of running. In the meantime, he seemed to enjoy inventive, and sometimes combative, sex.

Our bedrooms stood across the hall from one another, with Winner and Barton sharing the master suite at the end. Chang's room was on the other side of the house with the kitchen in between. This arrangement afforded us all our privacy. Chang especially did not want to hear the activities of four sexually-active, homosexual friends. I didn't blame him. Duo was loud and explicit.

Duo was loud in bed with me. I don't know why I would have thought or expected otherwise. He was noisy when he was excited or happy, and he had been very vocal at the cabin. This, however, was a typical thin-walled house shared with others, so I was shocked at first.

The notion that he would be reticent and wish to avoid contact with me crossed my mind. When we left the mountain cabin, he clearly stated that he wanted our affair to remain a secret. For the few days the five of us remained in the Preventer's dormitory before moving, Duo checked into the infirmary. Possibly, he didn't want the other agents to perceive him as an injured animal. He wouldn't say. As talkative a man as he was, he concealed more inside- but not during sex. Once we had a room to ourselves, he let me know exactly how he felt, what he liked, and how he liked it. He turned me on like no one else.

Up to this point sex for us was great- all oral and manipulative contact. Anal sex was off limits. Neither one of us was ready to play the submissive role. He, in particular, adamantly refused to consider the possibility in the future. I knew that I wanted that extra closeness. I also knew that meant that it would be me who would have to open to him, and I needed better control over my killer reflexes before that could happen.

Counseling helped us all. Barton agreed to accompany Winner. I believe resolving their sexual problems drove him to action, but Barton had his own personal issues to consider. I believe my self-improvement impressed him. As his partner, he had pointed out behavioral changes from time-to-time and told me how much easier to work with I'd become. Not in those words. He spoke nearly as infrequently as I. The possibility to live a fuller more complete life after being a driven Gundam pilot was real, but it required application and the active cooperation of others.

Duo would not allow me to participate in his therapy sessions, nor would he join me during mine. Our relationship had to remain at home, at any cost, so it seemed. He did not want his homosexuality known around the workplace. How he could gain anything from counseling without revealing this most important aspect of his life, I didn't know. Possibly, he _did_ tell his therapist that he was gay, knowing it would be confidential information, but he didn't discuss the content of his counseling sessions with me.

Once we passed through the doors of our house, however, he was mine. My libido surpassed his, surprisingly. I always imagined an energetic, outgoing guy like him would be more aggressive; instead, I initiated our sexual activities. Still, he freely demonstrated his affection around the house. Duo enjoyed our contact. He snuggled on the couch, touched me constantly, and kissed me without warning and in front of the others, the other ex-Gundam pilots. This triggered several outbursts from Chang until one day Duo stunned us all.

Barton and Winner were watching the news broadcast on the television. Duo and I were engaged in a private, passionate kissing activity, while making dinner. Chang had been in his own room, but chose to join us.

"Take that disgusting behavior out of the kitchen if you are preparing my food," Chang said.

He hadn't meant to sound so sharp. I knew he had had a bad day at work and was dumping on us, but Duo wouldn't have known. So when Duo broke away suddenly, I was afraid he was angry or hurt. Instead, I noticed something else, a playful, yet dangerous, glint in his eye. Chang should have left.

"Aw, are you feeling left out?" Duo asked him

"Not at all. I am hungry and impatient."

Duo's grin widened. He closed in on the other man with an awkward shuffle, nearly loosing his balance due to his braced ankle. Chang reached out to catch his fall, and ended up with an armful of Duo. Had he simply kissed Chang and laughed, it would have been one thing, a joke, but he held Chang's head in place and kissed him hard, thrusting his tongue inside and grinding his groin into our friend. When they parted, Chang was red-faced and breathless.

I was stabbed with jealously, a blow painful enough to make me fall backwards onto the counter. Chang sucked up a lung-full of air, shouted curses in Chinese, and stomped off. Duo smiled smugly and chuckled. I hit him. He blocked my punch.

"Hey! Why d'ya do that?"

"You're my boyfriend!" I announced. "You don't do that to other guys, even as a joke, which I hope it was!"

Duo struck back, and I blocked, catching his fist in one hand and bearing down on him, rotating and pushing him over the sink. He was a good fighter, ruthless when pushed, but I was stronger and his bad leg further disadvantaged him. He pushed, my arm struck the faucet, and his face was drenched in cold water. That pissed him off. He wrenched us around and we toppled onto the floor, where he attempted to pummel my face and chest. The impact of the fall knocked my breath away, but I gripped his wrists before much damage happened. I used my brute strength to gain leverage to flip him over. Weighing him down with my legs and chest pressing full length along his and holding his arms above his head, glued to the floor, I controlled his movements.

He was spitting mad. I was turned on. I chanced he wouldn't bite me and pressed my lips to his, running my tongue across his lower lips and moaning as blood rushed to my lower parts. The urge to thrust my hips overpowered my willpower for self-defense, and I dry-humped him there on the kitchen floor.

"I have to agree with Chang this time," Barton drawled from the bar separating the front room from the kitchen. "At least finish making dinner for the rest of us before you start in on each other."

"I think Wufei liked you better when you were in denial," Winner said.

When Winner giggled, I was truly mortified by my behavior. Thankfully, Duo had done a complete turn-around and was able to laugh it all off. We finished cooking, called Chang back, and apologized profusely- both of us. After that we set some ground rules for out-of-line behavior in the shared rooms, which rarely got broken.

A day later, Duo and Winner took off. I envied their friendship, always. Duo spoke with his best friend with ease about topics he wouldn't with me. I should have felt thankful that he'd open to someone, and I was, but I wished it could have been me instead. I wondered how long he could balance one of us as best friend and the other as lover. I wondered how long I could bear it.

"Yuy?" Barton found me staring after Winner's car.

"What?"

"I was going for target practice. Wanna come?"

"Sure." I did feel like shooting something.

On the way, my partner shared some interesting information. Barton was a man of few words, as was I, but, with caring insight, he managed to unlock a few doors of private information I had sealed away. Winner affected him that way, making him sensitive and caring. I had no doubt that the two friends loved each other. It was reflected in the way Barton treated others now.

"You got it bad, Yuy."

"Do I?"

"Yeah. You are in love with that little twerp and he's afraid of how vulnerable that makes him if he gives in and love's you just as much."

"What makes you think that?"

"He tells Quatre, who tells me. Oh, Quatre doesn't tell his friend's secrets intentionally. He tells me how things I used to do he sees Duo doing, and we talk about it."

"So it is a self-confidence issue," I sighed. "I don't know why. He's smart, talented, and attractive. Why does he feel less than he is?"

Barton shrugged. "I ain't the shrink."

"He makes disparaging remarks about himself at times, being a street kid from L2, where being a homosexual teenager meant you were either a whore doomed to die, or dead."

"Sounds like you do know what his problem is, then. He needs to see gay men who have made a success of their lives and are proud of it."

"How about us?"

"I don't know. We don't count, I guess."

Barton had nothing more to add and our conversation turned to more mundane subjects after that. His words stuck in my head, though. I wondered where I could find the right role model for him. He made my life so complicated. This is no complaint. Put me in a bedroom alone with Duo and there was nothing better this side of the universe.

(o)

Duo required a cane or crutch to walk for over two months. During that time he stayed home, learned to change the sheets and do laundry. His cooking was marginal at first, but no one complained when we came home and food was bubbling on the stove or baking in the oven.

About the second week after we moved in, I found Hilde in the kitchen when I arrived home. I knew she and Duo had been "just friends" awhile, but I was also aware of how much she liked him and how much she wanted to make more of that friendship. I wasn't about to leave them alone.

Apparently she had taken the entire day off to take Duo to the market, buy groceries, and teach him some cooking techniques. Once he mastered the basics, she told us, he could follow any recipe successfully. As a housewarming present, she presented us with two cookbooks and a few of her favorite tools—a sharp peeler, a micro-grater, a large mixing bowl, and a long wooden spoon.

I have to give the woman credit. After that, there was no holding him back. Duo's cooking was matchless and adventurous. I wished he would never return to work. That first day of training was his culinary turning point. Another bone of contention was raised again that day, too.

"Sally is coming over," Hilde told me, "with Wufei. Oh, and so's Relena and Dorothy."

"Relena?"

I hadn't seen her in months. Duo's eyes caught mine as he studied my reaction. I had told him of our one kiss, which had happened a long time ago. What had moved me to kiss her was a complex mix of leashed in emotions, but not love. I did not pine for her. She was a friend and the leader of our peaceful colonial-earth alliance. Nothing more. I had told Duo repeatedly that my heart was his and his only, to cherish or not. I hoped now that my eyes reassured him of that fact again.

"Uh, huh," Hilde went on. "A real surprise. She just called and missed running into you at headquarters, so we invited her over for dinner."

"Sounds like a party." I looked from Hilde to Duo and smiled. I tried to make that a supportive smile. "I'll go shower quickly."

I think I handled the evening well. I was politely attentive to everyone. I made a point to compliment the cooks, especially Duo. I knew he wouldn't want me to kiss or touch him, not with the women present, so I behaved with restraint, while not seeming aloof. When the Relena and Dorothy prepared to leave, I kissed Relena's hand and she hugged me, hoping for more, possibly, but accepting what I could give. I knew I had performed admirably.

Sally and Hilde joined the five us for a movie. I was amused by Chang's refined manners in the presence of women. He had matured, no longer cursing the weakness of women, but admiring their strength, and, in Sally's case, their feminine attributes. He was attentive, offering them the best seats, drinks, and snacks. Chang was a perfect gentleman, alarmingly so. I think he had been taking lessons from Winner, although, he had grown up in a wealthy clan.

Surprising to me, Winner and Barton did not hide their relationship from our guests, nor did they flaunt it. I envied them all night, longing to wrap an arm around Duo, hold his hand, and kiss him. I think Duo knew how I felt. He slipped me looks every so often, and once he clipped me on the back of the head when he passed. I snagged his braid and gave it a tug, but nothing else. I knew that when the girls went home, I would still have the room across from his, and possibly share it.

To make sure Hilde did go home, after recognizing the signs of a hanger-oner, I offered to drive her home exactly five minutes after the movie ended. Sally was Chang's problem.

"Oh, no thanks, Heero," Hilde said. "I got my car and since there wasn't any booze I can drive. What, you got a hot date tonight?"

She looked around as if to search for the girl I was hiding, and caught Duo staring straight at me, eyes wide, startled. His expression was a dead giveaway, if you had a mind to think of two men as hot dates. I stepped up gallantly.

"No. I have paper work to do and some research."

"On a Friday night? You are too dedicated, Heero. You ought to get out more. Have some fun, you know?"

"I'll do that, Hilde."

She kissed me on the cheek, and Duo, too, and then left, promising to come next week for baking lessons. I walked her to the car and thanked her for Duo's cooking lessons.

"Duo's confidence in the kitchen has improved."

"And you're eating better, heh, heh. It's been my pleasure. I mean, anything to get a little closer to him, ya know? Not that it makes any difference. He doesn't get my hints. I mean, what's a gal to do to get him worked up? Any ideas? You live with the guy."

"I'm afraid not. I'm not the one to ask."

"Didn't think so, seeing as you never date either. I should ask Wufei, I guess. Well 'night!"

When I entered the house, Chang was speaking to Duo. I didn't see Sally in the room. I hung back to give them a moment to finish.

"He saved your ass, Maxwell, although why you wish to continue this ridiculous pretense, I don't know. Here, I thought he was the natural killer, but it's you who's killing him slowly."

Whatever Duo was about to say, didn't get said. Sally returned from the bathroom, thanking Duo for cooking the "delightful" meal. It would have been awkward for me to pull Chang aside a tell him to mind his own business, so instead I headed to the kitchen to load the dishwasher and wash any remaining pots and pans. I was drying my hands when I heard a footstep behind me and felt a pair of sinewy arms wrap around my waist.

"Thanks."

"Thank you for the nice dinner, Duo."

"Yeah," he said.

"Hilde wants to get closer to you, you know. She told me so. She asked me for advice, from which I excused myself." Remembering what I knew Chang had already said to him, I added, "I told Relena I was gay some time ago. It wasn't right for me to lead her on any longer. She held too influential and public a figure for me to play games. I made her unhappy; it was difficult to do, but she appreciated my honesty."

"Are you saying you think I should be upfront with Hilde?" he asked.

"It's up to you, Duo. Sooner or later word will get around that I'm gay. If you're seen spending time with me, conclusions will be drawn, like it or not. I'm not advertising myself, but I'm not going to lie either, if someone asks."

"So you're warning me?"

"Yes. If you attempt to hide your sexuality, you take the chance that someone might discover your secret and reveal you at an inopportune moment."

"Or I can host a coming out party and tell all, huh? I'm not sure, no, hell, I know I can't do that, not yet."

I sighed, feeling his pain and uncertainty wash over me, then smiled. "Then I will do my best to protect your image."

"Thanks, Heero. I don't deserve what you're willing to give me all the time."

"Oh, Duo," I said holding him tight against my chest. "I love you. It's not about deserving or not. It just is."

He shook his head. "Come on, stud. Enough talk."

I let him drag me to his room and rip off my clothes. It was such a rare event for him to be the aggressor, I wanted to relish the moment. And him.

"You know," he said in a husky, sexy voice. "Sally's staying over, in Fei-man's room."

"You are kidding."

"No, I'm not. Fei-man got the girl, finally."

To celebrate, we made love very, very quietly, with some light jazz turned low.

(o)

I knew Commander Une wanted Duo back on the job, the same job doing undercover, infiltration work, the worst and most dangerous. While he was home and incapacitated I took every opportunity to investigate job openings with Preventers and show him other choices: security, recruit training, tech design, computer support, and, as he pointed out, the garage.

He promised to think about it. Really. And I believed him. I also knew Une wouldn't let him go without a fight, so I decided to take action while he was still home convalescing. First thing back at work on Monday morning, I knocked on the office door of our superior. We had words.

"He begs for it. He loves it. He insists," Commander Une said.

I frowned and replied, "A john told me that practically word for word minutes before I arrested him."

"What? You asked me why I gave Agent Maxwell the toughest duties, and I told you the truth. He won't take the average jobs, and there's plenty of work out there waiting for his special talents."

"Yeah, and you're not assigning him those other jobs, just the brain-rape ones. I'll bet every pimp thinks the same way."

"I beg your pardon, Agent Yuy. You are over-stepping the boundaries of decency and proper protocol. You have no right--"

"He's treated here like some high-priced whore. Paying him for his services, while he gets his brain fucked over and over. Well, I'll tell you, whores don't like it. Sex is a commodity, and they hate it all. It's demeaning, painful, and dangerous, but they do it to survive."

"He's getting therapy."

"Don't give him the jobs. Don't give him the jobs no matter how much he begs, because now you know what you're doing to him, and that he doesn't love it or want it or need it. He simply hates himself so much it's his punishment, his absolution for…" I paused and thought first. No I would not be the one to "out" him. "...for whatever sins he believes he has committed. And he'll continue until he makes a mistake and dies. I don't want him to die, Commander Une."

"I certainly don't want that either. I would like to know how you obtained this personal knowledge about the man when three weeks of counseling hasn't uncovered a single problem."

"I, uh… he's my friend. We share a house with others. We talk."

"You talk."

"He talks to Agent Winner as well."

"I see. If I re-assign him, that will pose the problem of getting him a partner. Someone like you, serious, capable, but not you."

"No, not me. I would recommend someone older, confident, successful, and, um…gay."

"Why is that?"

"He would not respect a weaker man, and an overly aggressive male would make him lose confidence. Gay would be perfect."

"You have been thinking about this a considerable amount, haven't you?"

"Yes. I believe it would be in his best interests to take a job elsewhere, something non-violent. I don't know if he agrees, but he said he'd think about it."

"And if he won't, then you are covering the bases, are you?"

"Yes."

"Well, thank you, Agent Yuy. I will think about what you have told me. Now, I have a meeting to catch, if you don't mind my rushing you off."

"No. I'm done."

I nodded sharply, and left her office, hoping I had not said too much, but confident to have done the right thing. I wouldn't know the fall out until months later when Duo returned to duty at Commander Une's request. This time, I lost every battle on every front that mattered.

(o)

"Isn't that Zechs Marquise?" Chang asked.

"Milliardo Peacecraft," Winner corrected him. "Code name '_Wind'_, once he joined the staff of the Preventer Intelligence Bureau. I wonder what he's doing here in Sanc again? He's been working off-Earth."

"I thought I detected a foul stench."

"Wufei! He's on our side." Winner smiled. "He's only four years older than us. Funny, during the war he seemed far more grown up and we were like kids."

"Kids playing war with the biggest kick-ass killing machines made," Barton put in. "What's the excitement? You ready for lunch yet?"

"Lunch? It's not even eleven, Trowa," Winner said. He frowned, but his voice gave away his pleasure at being desired by the other man. "Bored back at work already?"

"I have interests," Barton muttered. He and Winner exchanged conspiratorial smiles.

I knew Duo had been in to see Une first thing. I had hoped he would have stopped by to see me and let me know how their meeting had gone, but he hadn't. His meeting with her a couple weeks before hadn't ended well either. He had been itching to get back into action, and she was holding him in a waiting pattern until a partner arrived

Yes, he was still an agent ready to log dangerous missions. I hadn't seen him leave her office, so I guessed he must still be inside, waiting. I had attempted to go see him myself, but someone had found a reason to block my path, delay me with questions, or require my personal attention for just another minute-- like my room mates, presently.

I looked up and asked, "Why are you all at my desk? Our appointment isn't for ten minutes."

"Platinum-blond prince at two-thirty," Barton said.

"I wonder what he's doing in this building?" Winner asked.

I moved to my door. My eyes narrowed as I watched Zechs stride gracefully through the building to Commander Une's door, then knock and enter. Chang could recognize my mood down-swing immediately from the increase in tension across my jacket and the condition of the balled up paper in my fist, the draft of a report I'd been working on all morning.

"You know, don't you?" he asked me.

I turned toward the door. "Duo is in Une's office. She called him in today to meet his new partner."

"He's never had a partner before," Winner said. "Did he ask for one?"

"No," I said. "I did."

"You asked our boss to get Duo a partner?" Winner asked, his eyes growing as he realized the complete truth. "He doesn't know you did that?!"

Chang clicked his tongue and sniffed. "I thought you two were close."

I twisted my head and stared into his obsidian-black eyes. "What do you mean?"

"You should know him better than to do a stupid thing like that. Maxwell will not forgive you for interfering. I wouldn't, if it were me." Chang drew his breath and lifted his chin in a haughty manner.

"Oh, Heero," Winner moaned.

"I know who's not getting any for awhile," Barton muttered. "Can we go now?"

I was reeling. I hadn't thought that Zechs would ever return to earth. It troubled me that the man met my description of a partner for Duo too well, although I had no idea whether or not he was gay. He was certainly handsomer than necessary, striking in fact. I felt the familiar twinge of jealousy and uncertainty churning my gut. It was possible that I had made a tactical error.

"No, Trowa," Winner said, oozing patience. "We have that appointment with the commander, and you know it. Look here she comes."

"Oh, joy." Barton stiffened and turned warily in the direction Winner pointed.

Chang joined us at my desk. "She's smiling. That's always a bad sign."

"Gentlemen," Commander Une purred. "You have made this so convenient for me, gathering together like a pride of lions. Oh, I'm sorry; I guess those are mostly female. Pack of wolves, then. Well, come along little puppies and I'll make this quick and painless."

"My dentist once used a line like that on me," Barton muttered.

"Did he hurt you?" Chang asked, taking the bait.

"No way. I told him I like it slow, hard, and in the ass—"

"Trowa!" Winner shouted, cutting him off. "That's not true or funny. His dentist is a lovely woman," he said to us before turning back to his wayward boyfriend. "You never say a word to her."

Barton shrugged, Chang glared at him, and I hid a smile. The commander pretended she hadn't heard. She entered her office.

"Gentlemen, I'd like you to meet our head of infiltration and undercover strategies, Milliardo Peacecraft. I know you all recognize one another, but this time we are all going to be friends and work together. He will be Duo Maxwell's partner."

End, It's Back to Work, Chapter One.


	9. It’s Back to Work Chapter 2

**DEFYING GRAVITY**

**Part Two:** **It's Back to Work**

**Chapter Two**

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Gundam Wing or its characters, nor do I make any monetary profit off this story.  
Warnings: 1x2x1, 3x4x3, AU, yaoi, some language  
--Kaeru Shisho 5/11/2007 6:25

* * *

I never work with a partner. I solo. Duo does solo; sounds suggestive, eh? I found out that I would get this partner in a few days. 

I was boiling over. First day back at work and I was benched. I'd be the highest paid paper shuffler on the payroll until my new partner showed. Partner?! I told Commander Une I don't work with partners. I do now, she tells me; that is, when the dude gets his transfer completed. I let her know I wasn't happy. She dismissed me with a pile of folders and told me to get familiar with the file room. That really pissed me off. Steamed my shorts. Fried my… something.

I know the shrink approved me for work, but I interpreted that as meaning relevant work suitable to a prestigious agent such as moi. My room mates told me they had been interviewed by Une the week before, and all said they'd given me the 'thumbs up' for duty. She'd have to listen to them, right? I had been under their noses pretty much exclusively for the past two months, so they'd be able to vouch for my sanity and capability. No problemo.

Yeah, right. Big problemo, 'Cuz I didn't get an assignment. I gotta fucking filing job and a desk overloaded with overdo and outdated travel forms to cross reference with the receipts. Like anybody cared. I was back-burnered, and it toasted my marshmallows.

I crammed the armload of files between my overflowing trashcan and the wall, snagged my jacket, checked for my bus pass, house keys, and brandfuckingnew cell phone, and made my escape. I dashed past security guards before they knew I'd been there and out the back with no idea whatsoever where I was going. I sure as hell had to blow off some steam before heading home.

Home was great, actually, but there were times when I couldn't take being around the other guys. I needed someplace outside of the commonplace, and I knew just where to look. After I got swept off the streets and lodged in the Maxwell Church, I spent time getting religion, and questioning it. I learned to read and write, and the word of God was one of the textbooks, courtesy of Sister Helen. The other favorite tomes of philosophy included plenty of old world Disney story books. I soaked up a lot of good advice, but didn't buy into a lot of the holy talk. What I gained was the feeling that any church I could find was a safe haven, if even for only a few minutes of quiet meditation.

I slipped into the side door to the chapel, found a comfortable seat- ha, ha- and watched the sun shine through the stained-glass windows. I hummed a song, not a hymn, but a nice one anyway. I let my soul soar and allowed myself to feel clean, whole, and happy. Didn't take long.

"Thanks again, God, for receiving me, and, ah… I appreciate it. See ya later!"

Yeah, I said my thanks and took off before someone caught me. No telling what would happen then. Next, I'd run. Heero showed me the way. Running to reach enlightenment. I transcended all my lowly human desires and suffering.

By the time I got home, I was feeling better, good enough to fix a terrific dinner for my buds, all of them. I tossed the meat chunks with seasoned flour and set them to browning in the pot while I chopped and peeled vegetables. Wasn't long before Trowa and Quatre came in. They were nearly always home first. I really admired how they always made time for each other.

Heero was more driven and so was I, but I'm sure he would have cut his work hours to suit me if I asked, or made some commitment to him he could count on. Still, things were okay the way they were. We were a couple within the walls of our house and good friends outside. I wished Heero was just as okay with it as me.

I stirred the stew, adding water, and the vegetables, all the while trying to put myself back in that church, but try as I did, my mind was not on God. The Mysteries of the Body and Blood of Christ were not at the center of my thoughts. If I looked up I could see Trowa and Quatre going about their cleaning duties, picking up the trash, while scattering clothes of their own.

My thoughts centered more on the secular and profane rather than the spiritual and sacred. Trowa, tall, slender, and handsome, looked so perfect as he ran the vacuum with precision and devotion. Quatre, standing at the altar, er, the bar, toweled off the water rings, and gazed almost rapturously, looking as if he were part of the celestial host of angels praising the Lord. Yet, I knew it was his lover who was the object of his adoration, and Trowa was damned near the most ungodly man I knew.

When they had shed everything but their shorts, I capped the stew pot, set it to simmering, and exited stage left to my own room. I had forgotten it was cleaning day. _My room. An entire room to myself. Just me, my clothes, and I._

That got old fast. Man, if only Heero was here to talk to. Not that we spent much time alone in a bedroom talking. Once that guy discovered sex, his appetite was hard to satisfy. No wonder the doctor's drugged the guy! Had his hormones flared during the war, he never would have had the concentration to last. _Fuck dedication, gimme a hot body!_

His skin was nice, so was his smell. With my eyes shut I could feel him alongside me, and in my hand and mouth, demanding. First thing, he wanted me to beat him off or suck him off. His dick had to be contained by me or he'd hump my leg or hip or stomach. It was nice to be wanted. I could be okay with a quickie in the shower now and then, but not Heero. Morning and night, probably noon too if the opportunity arose. _I'm not complaining._

So, alone with my thoughts I thought about Heero and sex. Nothing new about that, I'd been dreaming about Heero and sex every since I'd fallen for him, which was about five seconds after shooting him. Difference now was that I was dreaming about the sex I'd had with him, instead of fantasizing about what might never be. _How had that happened?_

The when was easy: over our vacation. The how was complicated, but I was too wasted to unravel complications now. After that fulfilling half hour of work at the office, I needed a rest. _I should just close my eyes a little while._

"Wake up," a velvety voice hummed in my ear and a heavy weight pinned my hips to the bed.

"'Ro?"

"Yes, and dinner smells great. Want to join me?" Heero asked.

"Okay, lemme up, though."

"Not that dinner; what's in the pot can keep a little longer. I meant you-- here and now."

He licked my jaw and forced open my mouth for a deep kiss. He pulled away to start sucking on my neck, dragging my shirt open with one hand while unbuttoning it from the bottom with his other. If you ever had an addiction, then you'd know why I needed him to live. Velvety golden skin over hard musclesRelentless fingers.His adoration. _ Better than drugs._

"Gods, 'Ro…"

We were the last to the table, but stew just gets better the longer it cooks. I plucked off a hunk of bread, mopped up a swath of stew, and crammed the morsel into my mouth. As I chewed, I prepared another serving similarly, completely engrossed in my dinner, when I heard a throat clearing. I looked up to find my four room mates watching me, waiting expectantly.

"I said," Heero repeated, I guess, "I looked for you around noon. I thought we could go out for lunch, but your office was empty. Short day?"

I swallowed. "Very."

"What did you do?" Quatre asked in a very timid voice.

"Nothing. Une loaded me up with a buncha busy-work crap as an excuse to give me a pay check until my partner shows up."

Trowa dropped his fork. "Partner, eh? She tell you who that might be?"

Fei and Heero concentrated on winning their staring contest. Who ever won burned the other alive, I think, won the game. I tried to keep it light.

"No. I warned her I'd lose him the first hour, or kill him, whichever, but she didn't even bat a fake eyelash."

"So, your job classification has changed." Quatre said that, not as a question, but as a result of logical deduction. He sighed with relief. _Sorry, bud._

"Nope, still intelligence, infiltration, but now I'm gonna be strapped with a nursemaid, or worse, some kid fresh out of training. You think I limp around now, just wait until I get some newbie checking my actions. Really sucks. When I find out which doctor yellow-slipped my file, I'm gonna—"

"I, uh, may have been responsible," Heero said.

I stared, unbelievingly across the table. If he was telling the truth, he had balls the size used in some major sport. "Huh?"

"I recommended that Commander Une assign you a partner to watch your back. Everyone else has one."

I lost it. "Fuck you, Yuy! You! I trusted you to back me up, not screw me over, but then, maybe that's been your aim all along-- screw Duo. Well, better be satisfied with fucking up my job, 'cause you sure as hell ain't ever gonna fuck my ass!"

"Told ya," Trowa muttered to Quatre at his side.

I shoved away from the table, knocking over my chair in the process, and stomped off to my room, slamming the door for good measure. I was pissed spectacularly at Heero, and took every opportunity along the way to demonstrate it. A kick here, a pound there, peppered with a curse or two.

"Duo?"

"Go away."

"Duo, please."

"Go. Fuckin' A. Fuckin' way."

"Let me explain."

"No."

"Duo?"

"…"

"I love you."

"Tough shit."

"Duo—"

"…"

A few hours later, I was ready to listen, some. He knew I wasn't reckless, but the work I did was dangerous, so much so that he would be distracted with concern if I was going it alone again. He didn't want me to work infiltration at all, so I guess it was a concession on his part not to have told Une to put me to pasture entirely. He was her sounding board, her most trusted agent, so I knew Heero's opinion carried more weight than any argument from me.

"You should have warned me."

"Yes, I was wrong to go behind your back, but I was afraid you would make me vow not to, and then I'd be forced to break a promise."

"Bastard," I said, but I'd run out of fuel after fuming for an hour, and now the fire was out and he could tell.

"Possibly," he said, the barest of smiles curled the corners of his lips. He had the decency to leave and sleep in his own room that night without any urging from me.

The next day I rode with him to the office, where I hunched over my desk in my little cubical and filed, cross-referenced, re-filed, and collated until lunch, which I spent with Hilde and Heero. The afternoon's work was a photocopy of the morning's work, and then we drove home by way of the grocery store. I fixed dinner, watched a movie, folded laundry, and slept with Heero. Pretty routine, but it wasn't so bad. I could grow to liking the mundane, as long as my nights included Heero.

It was Friday, finally. I leaned back in my chair, propping my feet on the edge of my desk, uncaring whether or not my heavy black boots would mar the perfect sheen of the finish. Sinking further down in the seat of the chair, I looked up at the clock on the wall. I recalled the words of my boss, Commander "the devil incarnate" Une:

"If you refuse this assignment, they're going to pull you in for counseling and anger management. They think you're going to snap one of these days. They'll put you on administrative leave until you finish with it all. Monday, your partner is arriving, and with him the mission specs. You complete this sting successfully and they'll put all of the thoughts of emotional rehab behind them."

Why I didn't tell her to shove it and find me a safer job? Because, I didn't want that counseling. I didn't want to expose what I worked so hard to disguise. Heero did okay with it, and even though I'd promised Quatre to think about it, I didn't think positively about counseling. I think they all believed I was going to therapy sessions when I was really just visiting a church, communing with God, and running for enlightenment (thanks, Heero for introducing me to running), which are both kinds of therapy, so I hadn't lied.

Time seemed to move at that oh-so-slow pace that day. It was only three-thirty in the afternoon, but I'd effectively been awake for thirteen hours and holed up in this office for seven of those. I'm not a great sleeper. I'd decided to call it a day and hoped that I was finally getting exhausted enough to get a little sleep, because once the real job started sleep would be a rare treat.

On the way home, I bought food, and the minute I entered the house I started dinner, as I was apt to do with time on my hands and the need to eat on my brain. While the chicken casserole was in the oven, I picked up one of those books Fei had bought me over vacation. I was reading, sorta, when this crazy idea popped into my head. I kinda wanted to see how excited I could get Heero. It was winter and cold so the washing-the-car-half-naked plan was shot. The house wasn't warm enough for half-dressed dancing around either. So, I started layering on clothes. Sleeveless undershirts under short-sleeved t-shirts under long-sleeved t-shirts under button-down shirts under sweaters—until I was fifty pounds over-weight. _Yeah, that would get his juices going. What was I thinking?_

All blimped out, the only juices that were going to flow were going to be from my sweaty body, so I rolled outside for a look around the backyard. Thankfully, it was a low maintenance yard with a play area for little kids off to one side and a large patio with a path over to a, _what was that? Could it be a hot tub?_

I bounded down the path. I could have bounced. There was a house, well, more of an enclosure around a very, very large covered tub. There was an outdoor shower head, hooks for towels, and it was very, very private. _Had I missed this in the walk-thru?_

I heaved off the cover and tested the water. To my delight, the water was hot. _Man, and here we'd been paying to heat this and not use it! Would Wufei be royally pissed! This might turn out to be the greatest night ever._

I heard the backdoor bang and the pounding of feet coming my way. The force of a railroad slammed me to the ground; or rather I hit the dirt and sprang back once before I was immobilized on my back. I had the reflexes to brace my head from injury and block the incoming fist to my face.

"Gah!" I uttered, vehemently trying to get out more precise instructions.

"D-Duo!" Heero said. "What the hell are you doing…dressed like this…out here? I thought you were an intruder!"

"Well, heh, heh… I got hot so I came outside."

"Hot? Then take off some of those clothes!"

"Well, heh, heh,heh… I was sorta hoping you'd want to. Like a present, ya know?"

He helped me to my feet. I couldn't sit because I couldn't bend at the middle. "A present? Unwrap… oh." He was breathing normally, but his mouth was hanging open.

"And you know what else?"

"What," he asked, peeling off my jacket.

"We gotta hot tub, ready and waiting." I stepped aside to give him a better view.

"There's a spa under the gazebo? I didn't know," he said.

"Yeah, a, ah, spa in the, ah, gazebo. Damn, Heero, where do you learn all those descriptive words?"

"Porn sites. Guys always fantasize about having monumental sex in spas under gazebos."

"Oh, well, too bad for those poor dudes that gotta dream," I said. He had me nearly naked and starting to shake. "Um, it's my turn to strip you."

"Why don't I do that, while you turn on the jets and get in before you freeze," he said.

I did. Rub a dub dub. We had a good time. Try giving a blowjob under water and not drown. Quite a trick. It was hot, relaxing at the end, and wonderful. I really made Heero happy that time.

"Should we tell the others about this?" I asked.

"No."

"'Ro, eventually they'll see us and figure out where it is we are spending our time. 'Getting fresh air' just won't work as an excuse more than once."

"With Quatre, not even once," Heero admitted. "Maybe we'll let them ask first."

"Okay."

An hour later, Towa stuck his head out the door. "Fuck!"

Quatre's squeals rang through the house. Believe it or not, minutes later, all five of us were soaking naked in the tub, even Wufei. Hearing of our find, he was first to come join us bearing a towel wrapped at his waist, beating the other two by five minutes.

"I was in the shower when I heard the news," he said, eyes roaming over the foaming surface like a drunkard too long without his beer.

"You're not bothered bathing with gay men?" I asked.

"If you haven't anything better to look at than me, go ahead," he said, although, he pretty much hid his assets from view and moved quickly, submerging completely. "Touch me and I break off that part of you."

Trowa and Quatre joined us totally naked and careless of Wufei's presence. We chatted about the day, each sharing a story of wasted time, useless activity, or banal conversations with the rest of society. Fei loosed up markedly, enough so that when I joked about him getting laid by an older woman, he didn't try to emasculate me.

"Doctor Po is not that much older, only four years, in fact. During the war she was only beginning her medical training; even now she is doing her internship at the Preventer's hospital. She has two more years until she will have her medical certificate."

"Oh yeah? Well, that explains why she looks so damn young," I said. "It kinda made me nervous to think I had a girl checking me out, but then I'd remind myself she had to be at least thirty or so to be a doctor. Wow."

"Still, she must have started college at a very young age," Quatre said.

"Very. She is brilliant," Wufei said. He smiled, glowing with pride for her.

"Can't be that smart if the best she could do was to land you," Trowa said, snickering into Quatre's hair.

"Love doesn't work that way!" Quatre insisted. "It's a feeling not a logical deduction."

"Yeah, you'd better be happy for that, Barton, or you'd have bled to death ages ago from Quatre's shot." I stuck out my tongue to punctuate my message.

"Shit, I know Quat's too good for me, Maxwell. But if you keep reminding him, someday it'll stick in his head." Trowa smiled wistfully.

"That's stupid," my bud said, punching us both playfully. "Now shut up about all that. I love you all because you are my friends." He slid across the pool and snuggled up to his lover. "But you, you share my heart and soul."

Trowa bent into a kiss and Fei groaned. "Dear, gods make them stop."

After that interlude, we all settled down for a relaxing soak, shedding the stress of the day with our outer cells. And no one trounced on Fei-man's privacy.

(o)

Monday morning brought another change. Une was doing progress reports, which meant that every agent who reported to her paraded through her office to be interviewed that morning. I stood outside my door and watched, coffee mug in hand. They all looked my way and waved, or smiled, or didn't. Most everyone knew me or thought they did, and many were friendly. I was friendly, too. I checked my watch. Time for me to run the gauntlet.

Funny thing was, I didn't get to leave her office after she said, unintentionally rhyming, which shoulda been a clue of some kind to me that something bad was about to fall into my lap. "Hello, take a seat; I have someone for you to meet."

Now, I knew my partner was due in, so why the big deal, the game, I wondered? My partner had checked in over the weekend, fresh from outer space. Was I ever surprised when I saw who it was! While he and I were getting to know one another via mental telepathy over my coffee dregs and his cigarette, Une excused herself a moment to personally collect the last people she would see that day.

"Don't either of you go any place. I will be back in one minute." She smiled and closed the door behind her.

"I am as shocked as you are," my partner said quietly.

"Shocked? Damn, and here I was merely stunned." I failed at being funny or sarcastic.

"The commander told me I would be working with the best," he said. His mouth knotted up like he'd sucked on a sour lemon.

"She told me I'd be working with the second best. Better not disappoint me," I quipped.

His eyebrows disappeared into his long bangs. I think I traumatized him. Then he laughed. Well, that was a start. Une broke the magic moment when she led the others into her office. My new partner rose, I sat and watched for the agents I knew were bound to turn up. They were in order: Wufei, Trowa, Quatre, and Heero, and then about twelve more top-notch men, but no women.

"Gentlemen, I'd like you to meet our head of infiltration and undercover strategies, Milliardo Peacecraft. I know you all recognize one another, but this time we are all going to be friends and work together. He will be Duo Maxwell's partner."

"Charmed." Trowa said that a little louder than he thought, because it drew Une's attention his way, something he always avoided.

Heero looked like he might rip Mill's balls off. Really. His fists keep opening and closing. Fei-man had a hand on his arm, risking losing his, and Quatre was whispering rapidly in his ear. Heero's reaction told me what I needed to know, though. The choice of partners was not something he knew about or had anything to do with. _Fortunate._

"Yes, it _is_ a fortunate turn of events." Une smiled at me. I guess I was talking out loud. "Our peace is being tested. A serious problem has developed; a secret one with far reaching repercussions; a threat to everything we fought for in the war. Milliardo will head the mission to resolve it-- our most important mission to date. I will let him explain and lead the discussion."

Okay, things were looking up now. A job, a real job. I was so excited I nearly missed what my man Mill was saying. I fought back the waves of anger springing from my Heero and reverberating off anything and anyone in the room, and brought focus back to my brain. Milliardo could drone on and on, you know, but he had a presence that commanded respect and attention. The room full of agents listened as if spellbound, while I danced in my head.

"Hundreds of young men under eighteen are being abducted each week from the colonies and the Northern regions of Earth. And it's escalating. Thousands this year already. At first, it appeared to be a slave or sex ring, and it had been investigated as if that was all it was."

"Until now," Une put in.

"Correct, thank you." Milliardo Peacecraft smiled and nodded her way. "I recognized certain patterns, collected the data from the police agencies all working independently up to that point, and discovered the numbers of abductees was adding up alarmingly."

"I've been deep undercover for some time, insinuating myself in the trade as a renowned smuggler in arms. When I discovered the numbers of stolen boys could build an army, I thought I'd put my theory to the test. An army required weapons, so I looked at my contacts, put out feelers throughout the syndicate network, and discovered connections, weak but real."

"Word was out that someone was looking for boys, but especially for a few high quality boys, leader quality. Most of the abductees had been prostitutes, because, I would guess, no one misses them. Countless may have been taken and never reported. But whores are often drug addicts, disease-ridden, and often poorly educated—not immediately ready to lead troops of other boys."

He looked at me, I don't know why, and then continued. "I proposed to satisfy that need, the result being I have been informed of a critical meeting coming up. I have to warrant an invitation. Many are doubtful that I can make the move from the arms black market to…ah… trade boys, so it is critical that I succeed and bring to show the best soldier material possible. There is precious little time to delay. I must be prepared to deliver the goods at that meeting, and of course, send in undercover operatives to collect irrefutable evidence."

"And get them all out _alive_." Heero emphasized the last word.

The two men's eyes met. It wasn't friendly, either. "Of course," the older man said.

"What are you driving at with us here, Mill?" I grumbled.

"I need volunteers. I need boys to offer into service, believable ones-- ones they are certain to take. Duo Maxwell, you are one."

I rolled my eyes, a little peeved that I hadn't at least been given chance to offer my services. "Well, golly gee thanks, man, for asking—"

Heero was on his feet. "I volunteer."

Quatre jumped up. "Me, too!"

Trowa waved from the comfort of his chair. "And me."

Wufei stood resolutely, chin raised, the intensity of his eyes boring into Mill's forehead. "And I."

Several other young men stood as well, casting their fate with us suicidal idiots. A terrible idea. There were so many ways a mission like this could go wrong. The infiltrators wouldn't be much more than meat at the market, the extractors stuck inside some hell-hole against odds I couldn't calculate because a big Zero kept showing up in both the denominator and numerator parts of the equation.

Milliardo smiled. "As I had hoped. I will take Quatre Winner and Trowa Barton as slave material. And…two others… Blake Edwards and Aiden Moore. You are all young-looking, attractive, and fair-complexioned."

There was a murmuring of discontent around the room. Milliardo waved his arms, silencing the group. "Let me explain my choices. The Romefeller Foundation is at the bottom of this, and only white males are desirable. Sorry Yuy, Chang, Ramir, and Williams. Your jobs will be to collect and extract the proof of the operation and your partners from the site. The remaining agents present will be part of the shuttle deployment, backup, and tracking team."

"For those of you to whom this organization does not ring a bell: The Romefeller Foundation is once again a living, breathing faction, an organization resurrected from Earth's rich and influential syndicate magnates that once orchestrated the war between OZ and the Alliance, while sponsoring both. Through their intervention, for instance, Treize resigned his leadership in OZ. Duke Dermail led the foundation through the war years, and was brought to justice. He is still jailed, but his nephew, Franz Dermail, has taken over, we believe. I also have evidence of a plan to raise an army of terrorists and disrupt the world peace-- possibly his. We must not let him succeed."

There followed the requisite question and answer period with tons of questions and few answers. Une pulled part of the operations group to the side to discuss technical overview. Mill grabbed my attention with a slick hand gesture and drew us pretty boys off for a little talk.

"You are too recognizable as you are; you require disguises. First, grow out your hair. They seem enamored of long haired boys; red is a particularly desirable hair color. Do not ask me why; it just came up in the statistics. Quatre, yours is too familiar a countenance. Dye hair, change the cut, and possibly use green contacts. Trowa, streak your hair and change the damned style. Duo you absolutely have to unbraid your hair, pin back the bangs, something. You'll need clothes."

"Whore's clothes are easy," I said. "Done that before."

"I haven't," Quatre said.

_Well, duh. _I figured his father was rolling over in his grave now, imagining his only son a whore, strutting for Romefeller perverts.

"I don't pander to street trash," Mill sneered. "You'll be high class. Silk and sex, class and—"

"Ass," Trowa muttered.

"Panache," Milliardo said tartly. "We have approximately two months to complete the preparations, so we must move fast. I'd like to begin the operation today. To that effect, I will make appointments for the salon and boutique gallery. After lunch, all of you will join me at those appointments. Duo will leave with me this evening."

"What the shit? Tonight!" I shouted.

"Is that really necessary?" Quatre asked.

"We have to fly to New Germany, where I have already established a house. I will take him out for show as soon as possible. He will grab their attention and prove that I am serious and able to get the rest of the…"

"Flesh," Trowa supplied again.

"… commodities… they are looking for. We must start tomorrow."

"But—" I began.

"I left my family to come here for this assignment, Maxwell. I would like to compete this successfully and with all speed so that I may return to them."

"You got family?" I asked.

"Yes. My wife, Lucretia Noin, and our baby daughter."

Heero appeared out of nowhere. I could feel him bump against my arm. "Not tonight."

Oh, I knew Heero wanted at least one last night with me before all this. I did, too. It was happening so fast. I know I needed him, too. To tell him how I felt before, well, you never knew how things might turn out.

Wufei, bless his little hetero heart, came to our aid this time. "Duo has obligations before starting this mission."

Mill acquiesced. "Very well, one night. I will pick you up, Duo, at 10:00 AM. The flight will be arranged, but you'll need clothes, a salon visit—just to begin. We shall show up at key location where I can flaunt my "boy" with promise of other quality goods to come. They will bite and we will get them."

Heero did not look happy. "And we will pull all our men out, remember that."

Mill and Heero stared at one another. "You are only part Japanese. You might have worked, but for your eyes. It's hard to sell a man with killer's eyes and that scornful expression."

Heero bristled, his eyes narrowing dangerously. His fists tightened, his white knuckles glistened. "I wouldn't know. I never bought or sold human beings, just murdered them."

Pent up feelings threatened to rupture Heero's tight control. I sensed sharper words on his tongue tip about to be loosened, but for my sake he turned away, remaining silent, guarded, and patient. Wufei lent him strength with his stern presence.

"We must make careful, complete plans," Wufei said, shaking his head.

I don't think he believed Milliardo could do that, but I trusted my friends to make sure the plans were made, at least.

End, It's Back to Work, Chapter Two.


	10. It’s Back to Work Chapter 3

**DEFYING GRAVITY**

**Part Two:** **It's Back to Work**

**Chapter Three**

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Gundam Wing or its characters, nor do I make any monetary profit off this story.  
Warnings: 1x2x1, 3x4x3, AU, yaoi, some language  
--Kaeru Shisho 5/11/2007

* * *

I was disappointed with Duo for returning to the work _he knew_ I wanted him to quit, and livid with Commander Une for allowing it, and Zechs for walking this earth. Before I made a fool of myself, though, I was reminded by Winner, who could read my mind at my most emotionally intense moments, that Duo was a grownup, fully cognizant of my feelings, and in need of my trust in his abilities and judgment. Barton reminded me that Duo would not be alone on the mission. He and Winner, as well as "the fucking new partner" would be with him. Chang reminded me that he and I would be there, too, wherever the mission led them. I held back my anger, and concentrated my energy on planning tactics. 

Tracking devices. I would look into the latest technology. Now that I'd found him, I would never lose Duo again. I would make certain of that in the only way he might find exceptable.

When Zechs announced Duo would begin at once, flying to New Germany, and moving into his rented home that very evening, I nearly gave away our relationship right there in front of our superiors and fellow agents. Thankfully, Chang stopped me. I don't know when Chang developed such heightened intuitive awareness or where he dredged up the fortitude to stand up to Zechs, but he guessed what I was about to do and say and jumped into the conversation, claiming Duo's "obligations" that night. Winner and Barton were there to back him up with more excuses, but it wasn't necessary; Zechs gave us all one last night together, for whatever reason. I was grateful to my friends for giving Duo and I one night alone, before he would begin his undercover mission.

Duo had escaped the afternoon salon visits and gone home to wait for me. Winner and Barton covered his getaway from Zechs, but were unable to notify me. I didn't know what was up. My phone was off the hook. I was staring at my computer screen. I missed everything in my dazed state. Chang charged into my cubical and shook my shoulder.

"Get the hell home at once!" he growled. "Duo's there."

I needed no further explanation or encouragement to shut down my computer and rush home. One moment I was at my desk and the next I was running up to the door to our house. Duo met me at the door.

"I couldn't wait," he said pulling me to his bedroom.

"My room," I said. "I want your scent on my sheets as long as possible," I told him.

"Yeah, okay."

He nearly wrenched my arm out of its socket switching directions. He was breathless, rushing to push me onto the bed and kiss me hard. We stayed there kissing and fondling for several minutes. When I tugged his shirt from out of his waistband, he stopped my hand.

"Heero. Listen, ah, first. I want to tell, _need_ to tell you this now."

That stopped me cold. I did not want to hear any last words intended to make me feel better about this forced separation. No soothing platitudes, either. He must have read my worried look, because he didn't waste time.

"I… I love you. I am in love with you, Heero Yuy. I wanted you to hear it before… you know, in case—"

Gods, I didn't want him to finish that sentence. "Just a minute." I reached over to the bed stand drawer and removed the gold ring I'd tried to force on him over vacation. "I know you can't wear it on the mission, but will you accept it?"

He extended his hand with a grin. "Yeah, I'll save for when I get back. You can put it on me then, for good. And, ah, get one for you, too."

I pushed it over his large knuckle, glad it fit him. "You mean that?"

"Yep. When this mission is done, I'm okay with us being, you know."

"Boyfriends."

"Yeah, and letting everyone know it, that's the thing. No hiding."

I was relieved and pleased. I didn't think our secret could stay that way much longer, not with the way my eyes tracked his every movement and how I smiled in reaction to his presence. I did not treat others like I did him and I couldn't treat him like he didn't matter. Duo had had plenty of time to think this over. I kissed the ring and said, "I love you."

"Works better that way, you know, when it goes both ways? This is for keeps." He looked very serious.

"Yes. For keeps. You and me."

"Then I'll quit working full time. Une promised me part time in security if I completed this last job."

I was astonished. "When – when did you decide that? When did this happen?"

"After the meeting today, when I saw your face, when you found out what was up. I decided I never wanted to see you suffer that way or put you through that again. You are so much more important to me than that job, saving face, or whatever other stupid gripes I had. So, as I was leaving with Mill, I took Une aside and told her I quit. She and Mill and me had words. I guess I owed them a bit of notice and this mission is pretty important."

"And you will be working with a team, including me."

"Including you. Yeah, I like the sound of that."

We kissed for a long time after that side by side, limbs intertwined on the bed. I loved to kiss Duo. He had no idea how great he could kiss, I know. His lips were so compliant and he would just submit so suddenly and let me explore and touch him anywhere. Then I started to break down. I fought back tears I knew he'd see as inexcusable signs of weakness. He didn't need to think he was leaving me in this fragile state. I had to be strong so he could count on me and trust that I'd take care of my duties and support his. My mouth failed me.

"Gods… this….finally and then I won't see you. I won't be able to touch you for weeks. I'll go mad, Duo." I just might and the fear of that possibility gripped my heart and tightened.

"No, you won't. You're a soldier underneath this soft, warm exterior."

Duo looked into my eyes and smiled at his weak joke. My exterior was rock-hard muscle and cold-hearted killer, but I knew he meant my warm feelings toward him. Gently, he ran the back of his hand down my cheeks, first one then the other. His touch was so soft, so gentle, that I almost cried right then and there, and I never cry. I melted into his arms.

"Sit up," he said softly.

"Duo," I began, resisting, but gave up. I moved onto his lap, unable to stop our contact.

The tips of his fingers reached my ear and from there they ran along my jaw to the end of my chin. From there, the feather-light touches started down my neck, brushing across my Adam's apple before finally reaching the top button on my shirt. Both of us were taking shallow breaths.

Slowly, he unbuttoned my shirt collar, and then one by one the other buttons until my shirt was open and he could slide it off my shoulders. I reached up and did the same for him, although my hands shook and I fumbled with a few of the buttons.

He chuckled at my ineptness. "Have you ever done this before?" he whispered.

"Yeah."

"Oh? Who with?" he asked, teasing me more.

"It's okay. He's my boyfriend now," I said.

"Damned straight."

I opened my mouth to respond, but he put his fingers to my lips and said, "Shhh."

Everything happened in slow motion. He reached for my belt and undid the buckle, followed by the button to my trousers. I did the same for him. He unzipped me and my trousers loosened. I couldn't reach any more.

"You'll have to get up," he said. His voice was so low I could scarcely make it out.

I stood and my work slacks fell to the floor. I stepped free of them and dragged him to his feet, and his pants joined mine in a grey heap. Together we slid off his shorts. He stood before me in nothing but a pair of socks and a long braid. As I was about to pull down my boxers, he stopped me. Without a word, he placed a hand on each side of my hips, hooked his thumbs in either side of my shorts and pulled downwards, sliding his hands down my legs as he followed, crouching.

When my shorts were around my ankles, I just stood there frozen in place, not knowing what he wanted me to do and fascinated by the picture he made. In the end, I just closed my eyes. I decided at that moment that I would let him take me. On my knees or back, I didn't care. I could do that. I could let him enter me. In spite of my constant fantasizing about the moment, though, nothing could have prepared me for how it turned out.

I felt his cool breath, and the entirety of my attention was on that and him and what was taking place. Something warm and slightly rough brushed past the tip. I shuddered. That was soon followed by another and another, and when I opened my eyes I could see his pink tongue licking me sloppily. It felt great. He licked around the tip then opened his mouth and slid his lips over its head.

It was beautiful. I nearly collapsed.

He secured me with his hands on my hips and guided me gently so that I moved my body around and stood with my back to the bed. With that feat accomplished, he pushed me backwards so that I sank onto the mattress; all the while, his lips suctioned. I moaned as his head moved up and down along my shaft. Finally he came up for air and grinned up at me from where he sat on his knees.

"How was that?" he whispered.

"Un-be-flucking-eeeevable," I whispered back.

"Ever had that done to you before?" he asked me, grinning.

"Yes, by my sexy boyfriend."

"Lucky guy."

"Oh, I am, and so is he," I joked back. I don't know how I had the presence of mind to have a sense of humor.

While we spoke, he joined me on the bed, side by side. Resting one hand on my leg, he gently stroked the inside of my thigh. I sighed and my muscles quivered where his fingers caressed. He draped his other arm over my shoulder, and his fingers played with my nipple.

"S-so good," I said, tentatively running my hand over his smooth chest and stomach.

"Yeah," he said. His voice was husky and low. So sexy. "You're sensitive here," he said, tweaking my nipple again.

"Yes, leave me alone now."

I let my hand slide down to his groin. He was hard and felt huge. I knew what I wanted. I wanted to feel him inside me. Would he be averse to trying, I wondered?

"What next?" I asked him.

"Let's get them pierced."

"Duo!"

"Dinner?"

He leaned in and kissed me, a love-you-too-granny kind of peck. I growled and grasped him by the shoulders, bearing my weight backwards so that both of us fell onto the bed. I made a face.

"No, seriously. I meant what do you want to try next here, here in bed. I want you, um, inside me," I said at last.

"Oh!" His eyes widened and I could feel him tremble.

"I want this."

"Um, ah, I've been thinking about that, too, ya know. The other way?"

"Really?"

"Yeah, but, I know this may sound stupid, but I'd like to wait just a little longer."

"Oh, well, okay."

"I mean, I want to do this right. Like I'd dreamed. The ring, then exchange vows, then we fuck."

"What a romantic," I said, smiling. I leaned in for a light, reassuring kiss. "How about we call it 'making love' when we do it, okay?"

"Oh," he said as he blushed, "yeah, that's what I meant."

"I know. So you want a ceremony?"

"A little. Just us."

"Is that why you want to wait?"

"Hey, I'm not some wedding-bells-dream-fucked girl, if that's what you're thinking?!"

"I wasn't thinking that, but between two guys, well, it seems unusual. Waiting."

"Well, yeah, but I wanted to leave it out there to, ah… Mostly it will give me a reason to fight, something tangible, real to live for."

"A focus point."

"Yes! Something outside of work and the role I'm in that will bring me back, in case, um, in case I get submerged again during the mission. I might really need you to pull me back to reality, Heero."

"I will. I promise."

"And then you'll marry me?"

"M-marry? Ah, sure. Yes, if that's possible. We'll do contracts, anything we can to make it binding and formal, but in my heart, Duo, I am yours always."

"To the end."

"_No end_. Ever on and on. Always and forever, Duo."

"Yeah, now who's the romantic, eh? Okay. Forever and ever. You don't think I'm being stupid or anything, do you?"

"No. I am honored, as Chang would say."

Understanding in place, our lips locked together and our hands explored each other feverishly as we committed to manual memory one another's every contour.

(o)

When the alarm clock went off, I awoke to find the room bathed in sunshine. For the winter, this was uncommon. My stomach was empty, but I wasn't hungry. It was knotted with worry. Today Duo was-- he would be gone in an hour. For a horrible moment I was afraid he'd already gone, but, when I moved slightly, the arm that was around me loosened its grip. Duo had stayed the night in my bed. No kicking or fighting or shoving. We had slept together. I touched his arm to reassure myself that this was no dream.

I lay awake, listening to the rhythmic sound of Duo breathing right beside my ear. His arms were locked around me in a firm embrace, and I could feel something hard sticking into my back. I knew instantly what it was, and I smiled to myself at the thought.

A few moments later he whispered in my ear, "Good morning, beautiful," and squeezed me tightly in a hug, before releasing me altogether.

"Good morning yourself," I said, twisting around and bring us face to face.

His arm remained draped over my shoulder. I reached up and lightly ran my fingers through the loose hair around his face.

He leaned in and kissed me, and then smiled and said, "I wish I could wake up to this every morning."

"No reason why you can't… soon," I answered. The last word stuck in my throat and I fought back tears, again. I swallowed.

His expression changed slightly to that strange, wistful look he sometimes wore when he was thinking.

"What did I say?" I asked, but he just shook his head and pulled me close, running his hands up and down my back, kissing me again and again and again. He was having a hard time controlling himself.

"We'd better get up," I said after a few minutes. "It's probably fairly late."

"Always the responsible one," he said, sighing dramatically.

I punched his arm.

"Don't bruise the merchandise," he said jokingly, but I cringed. He was already getting into his new persona mindset. "I'm already up." He giggled and looked at the alarm clock. "Damn, it's nine thirty."

"We missed dinner last night. You want me to fix you something?"

He shook his head. "No. I'd just chuck it up."

"Hn," I argued.

With that he threw back the bed covers and sat up, swinging his long legs over the side of the bed onto the floor. He sat there with his bare back to me, his long braid acting as a divider, left side from right side. He rubbed his hands through his bangs and stood.

"Why bother showering?" he muttered.

I watched him dress carelessly in a pair of my athletic pants and a worn sweater, before he dragged a duffle bag from my closet, dumped my stuff, and then asked, "Can I use this?"

"Yeah."

"Thanks."

As he disappeared out the door and into his own room, I crawled out and yanked on sweats and a t-shirt. I made it to the bathroom first. I hardly had the heart to wash my hands. I wanted his scent, his maleness, his sex, to remain glued to me. He tapped on the door and I let him enter.

"My turn?"

"Hn."

"You gonna just stand there?"

"…"

"I gotta piss."

I didn't move. He shrugged and pissed, while I watched. I wanted to emboss his every pore upon my retina, my brain, and my soul. The doorbell rang. We could hear the light footfalls of Chang in the front room. I sighed.

"Better not leave him alone with Zechs for long," I said.

Duo clasped my hand in his, both were icy cold. We left the bathroom, picking up the duffle in the hall, and shuffled to the door. We met a very tousle-haired Barton in the hallway, just emerging from his bedroom. He was wearing, barely, red plaid pajama bottoms.

"Be there…minute," Barton muttered to us. "Wait."

I nodded and continued to the front where Chang stood barricading the entry from the one time Prince of the Sanc Kingdom.

"You are early, _Wind_," Chang said.

"You may call me Milliardo."

"You can wait in your car or on the porch. Oh, Yuy, good. You are here. Maxwell, you have time for breakfast. I made you coffee."

"You did? Thanks, man," Duo said.

It was the first time in history that man had ever made coffee for anyone. It was a monumental occasion and testament to how disturbed our friend was by Duo's departure. I nodded my thanks and greeted Zechs with a curt "Hello."

"Can I at least come in?" the man asked.

Duo's voice rang from the kitchen. "Come in here and have the best damn coffee not out of a machine."

I looked at Chang. "What did you do?"

"I bought coffee beans, ground them, and poured hot water over the grounds. You'd think it was a tea service!" He sniffed indignantly, but I could tell he was pleased with Duo's enthusiastic response by the twitch of his lip, threatening to turn into a smile.

Barton shuffled into the front room followed by another man I didn't recognize, but thought ought to be his lover, Winner. The stranger was wearing the matching top to Barton's pajamas over pale blue boxers. His hair was flaming red with blonde streaks, and when he raised his sleepy face, luminous green eyes met mine.

"Who…?" I started to ask.

"Do I really look different?" It was Winner's voice coming out of the stranger's face.

"Quatre?" I croaked, addressing him by his first name out of shock.

He grinned. Barton stumbled over and embraced him. In a very low-pitched voice he added, "It makes you feisty. Like making love with some hot new guy."

"I ought to be jealous of me!" Winner laughed. "And look at this!"

Barton shook his head and put his finger to his lips. "Zechs."

Duo walked to my side, juggling a mug of coffee and a piece of toast. "What the hell?"

"Look!" Winner repeated as he combed Barton's hair, parting it in the middle so the sides grazed his jaw line. I could see, now, that it had been styled, the tips bleached golden. He no longer looked the same either. His eyes were remarkable, now that they were visible, and he had freckles on his forehead.

"He's my sexy, skater boyfriend. Oh!" Winner's mouth snapped shut as he noticed Zechs standing in the doorway to the kitchen.

Winner and Barton weren't really "out" at work. It wasn't that Barton cared what anyone thought, but his boyfriend belonged to a very large, internationally known family, was an ex-Gundam hero, and was terribly shy about his sexuality. The signs were there, if you looked, but Winner was straight-laced and inhibited when they hung about together in public. He was loose at home, which I'm sure Barton appreciated and encouraged constantly.

Barton dropped his arm from his boyfriend's side, saying something I couldn't hear; it wasn't for my ears. I snaked an arm around Duo, steadying him. Chang draped an arm over Duo's shoulders, all the while staring steadily into Zechs' eyes, daring him to comment.

Zechs adjusted his one-of-a-kind tie, straightened the sleeves of his Armani suit, and sighed with feigned boredom. "Gods, are all you Gundam boys homosexuals?"

Chang removed his arm from Duo, folding it with the other across his chest. "You are a fool. You should be proud of their dedication. Already, they practice their proposed roles. You think they are professional actors that can walk into a part overnight? They are soldiers, agents, and peacekeepers by profession."

Zechs blanched, and then recovered his cool demeanor moments later. "You shame me. My sincere apologies. I rushed to conclusions. You are very convincing, Mr. Winner. Now, if Mr. Maxwell cleans up half as well, I think our mission will succeed."

"Hey, I do 'cool' fantastic!" Duo blustered.

"I don't doubt that, but what I need is for you to look outrageously classy, expensive, and exclusive."

I felt Duo falter as Zechs eyes roved over the worn sweatpants and stained sweater he put on. He hadn't showered, purposely, but now, after the studious examination, I knew Duo's pride was stung. I wasn't about to let the prince scorn my lover.

"He was on his way to shower when you came. It was my fault. I shut off the alarm." I shrugged and hoped Duo would take the out I'd offered him.

"I'll be ready in ten minutes," Duo said, and without waiting for Zech's permission, stalked out of the room, braid swinging brashly.

The rest of us made small-talk, very small for ten minutes, and, as promised, Duo quick-stepped from the bedroom. I met him as he entered the hall, tucking in his shirt, attaching his watch to a belt loop and hiding it in a right pocket (I told him nothing made a guy look more like a geek that wearing a watch the size and sporting the feature set he required for work,) and then stuffing his cell phone and wallet with his manufactured UC ID into his sports jacket.

"You look too hot for me to let you go now," I told him, winking.

He actually blushed, then smiled, pleased, before saying in a low voice, "Love you."

"Love you, too," I whispered in his ear, leaning away and allowing him to greet his official work partner again. He squeezed my hand hard before he stepped away.

This time Zechs stood straight, stiff, but not starched. "So, where's Duo Maxwell?"

Duo huffed. "Hey, I don't look that different!"

"But you do," Zechs assured him. "Now I look like your older boyfriend."

"You wish," Duo grumbled, leading the way out the door.

Then he left. No looking back. We had said our goodbyes, and I know if he had turned and looked at me one more time, I would have broken down. In my hand was the ring I had given him. I looked over and saw Winner's eyes brimming with tears. I had to run to my room, moisture tracking down my cheeks.

End, It's Back to Work, Chapter Three


	11. It’s Back to Work Chapter 4

**DEFYING GRAVITY**

**Part Two:** **It's Back to Work**

**Chapter Four**

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Gundam Wing or its characters, nor do I make any monetary profit off this story.  
Warnings: 1x2x1, 3x4x3, AU, yaoi, some language

Credits go to the late Mitch Hedburg for the wonderful jokes like "Fettuccini Alfredo is like macaroni and cheese for adults." He was a real gem of a writer who should have lived longer and delivered more great jokes.

--Kaeru Shisho 5/11/2007 6:26

* * *

It was a thousand mile hop, skip, and a jump from my new house with my buds to the rental house where I'd work and live for the next few months as a slut undercover. My high class pimp was Milliardo Peacecrap, Mill to me, codename _Wind_. The whole mission took on an extra-sour twist when he stopped outside the airport to "fix me up." 

No, I'd not had a pedicure as of late, I assured him. Although, I think the way I put it was, "Are you out of your mind? They're my feet!"

The salon did my toenails (I think the lady was too whacked to finish the job after cleaning them because they switched technicians on me halfway through), my fingernails (whoa… that black wasn't permanent?), and then someone was asinine enough (or greedy enough to be bought off by Mill) to think they could tackle my hair without a fight.

"How long have you been growing it?" one girl asked with a squeak and a gasp.

"Not long at all," I said. "But it's been getting longer without my help."

She laughed, which just encouraged me to turn on the charm, either that or it was Mill's perturbed expression that did it for me.

"Hey Mill? Can I get my hair highlighted?"

"Why would you wish to do that?" he asked.

"Because I feel some strands were more important than others," I said with a grin. Mill just gave me a straight-faced stare, but the girls giggled. What an audience!

When the bottles and foil came out onto the table, I realized that the girls were serious. One draped a plastic sheet over me to catch the blood, I guessed, and adjusted my chair up, back, and over a large basin sink.

"You cut my throat and you'll have that guy to answer to," I gestured vaguely in the direction I'd last seen Mill. "And he's gotta face a really angry bunch of –"

The rest of my brilliant conversation was drowned out my roar of water from the faucet behind my ears. Oh, well. A hose with a spray head snaked near my ear moments before a gentle rain of warm water drenched my head.

"Oh, honey," cooed the one beautician with her hands in my hair scrubbing out the cooties. "I just love your long hair. Guys with long hair are so cool."

Even though I think she was combing her eyes over Mill's hair, she had her hands embedded in mine. She had nothing over Heero, whose fingers like talons of steel could massage like crazy. I was polite to her, though, and seeing the need to entertain her in this rather intimate setting, I chattered off the top of my head, so to speak.

"Thanks. You know that's nice to hear, really. People associate long hair with drug use. I wish people associated long hair with something other than drug use, like an extreme longing for cake. And then strangers would see a long haired guy and say, 'That guy eats cake!' 'He is on _bundt_ cake!' mothers would say to their daughters. 'Don't bring that cake-eater over here anymore. He smells like butter cream, and did you see how excited he got when he found out your birthday was fast approaching?'"

I was killing them with my humor, so the staff changed and I got the zombies. Mill told me to cut the jokes so we could "get this over with." How was I to know that I was supposed to play sophisticated cool with this outfit?

I told him, "Making your friends laugh is a way of being in control, and it distracts from being made fun of yourself."

The fact that I'd first said that to Hilde after being holed up in a safe house with a bunch of very ill-tempered, trigger-happy pilots during the war didn't make it any less true. I was no fool. Mill would have to learn that on his own.

It was fun sitting in a comfy chair having my hair washed upside down. My scalp tingled, my fingers tingled, and even my clean little toes tingled. I told the zombie girl how I liked her hands in my hair, and she called over an undead helper to keep the drain clear so the sink didn't overflow.

Maybe it was the blood collecting in my head, but my situation made me think of this commercial where the girl was there washing her hair under a waterfall. I mean, that's crazy. All that water pounding on your head would knock you on your ass. And there I was _sitting _on my ass. It was hysterical.

Well, you know you can't please all the people all the time, and that day _all_ of those people were with me. Mill told me to sit still and I tried. He said I would ruin his reputation at the salon if I didn't sober up. That struck me funny, too.

"This is where you get your hair done?" I asked him.

He snorted a "yes," which explained all the ogling women circling him like Harpies or vultures or flies over dead meat.

"And you brought Quatre and Trowa here, too?"

Another "yes" in grunt language, one that I had become fluent in, including Chinese and Japanese accents.

"So, we'll _all _have equal shine and bounce!" I said in a rumbling, masculine squeal of laughter.

Hey, it was funny at the time. I think the girl globbing hair conditioner on my hair had been sniffing too much of that perm solution, because she was trying to engage me in conversation as a counter inducement my slipping to the floor and rolling around.

"I notice you are wearing a cross. I was wondering why, like, if you're religious or anything," she asked as she dunked me under again for the rinse cycle.

I spit the cross out of my mouth, where it had been dangling tantalizingly like a candy. "It reminds me of where I was. I wear a necklace now because I like to know when I'm upside down."

She smiled, but that was about it. I don't think she liked me all that much, because the next thing I knew she ripped apart strands of hair, applying blobs of hair dye, and used tin foil to make me look like an absolute idiot. This was the streaking process and it was smelly, boring, painful, and not the least bit funny.

I must have floated into a grin-and-bear-it state of anesthetized sedation. Time passed without my remembering what had passed until a shrill voice with attached pink-plastic fingernails two inches long began rubbing mouse and gel and crap into my hair, talking about scrunching in curls and shit. Three ladies with blow driers fluffed and crimped and messed with my hair—simultaneously! I mean, had it been Heero, well, of course if it had been Heero doing that I'da had to have committed him 'cause he'da been crazier than a loon.

So I get a look-see at myself in this mirror. My hair's pretty straight ordinarily, but, man, with a light trim and all highlighted and dry…ringlets…! I broke down into a laughing fit.

"Gods, I look like a real rich-ass, boy toy!"

That outburst won me the silent treatment from my partner until we reached the airport, and then his attention was in the negative sphere of the universe. He had to be as embarrassed as shit to be seen with me. _I_ was embarrassed as shit being with me looking like I did!

We were at the airport waiting to pass security. I'd told him repeatedly that I had done this before on commercial flights and that I knew better than to pack my gun or knife or nail clipper. I put my bag in the x-ray machine and the machine choked on it. Bells and whistles sounded.

Mill's look asked, "You didn't pack guns or knives, did you?"

I answered similarly with a roll of my eyes, "Give me some credit."

To which he ended the eye contact with a heavy, heavy sigh. I found out that my bag, Heero's actually, had cancer. It only had six more minutes to hold stuff. The zipper broke, the handle fell off. I had to sit there with my shoes on my lap, holding all my worldly possessions, it seemed, while Mill shimmered off to buy me a new travel bag. He had plenty to say to me then, although, I gotta admit I wasn't listening too carefully.

I had other things on my mind, and the problem was when I had things on my mind I liked to talk about them. While we stood around waiting for our plane to get in, I figured it was a great time to check out the reading material at the news stand. Mill agreed and accompanied me to a small shop. I was nearly to page twenty of this new thriller, and whispering to Mill what I guessed would happen next, when the clerk rudely interrupted me.

"This is not a library!"

"OKAY! I WILL TALK LOUDER THEN!" I shouted, annoyed at his rude interruption.

Mill bought the book and dragged me over to where everyone on our flight was still waiting to board our tardy plane. I read the last two pages of the book, discovered that I was right about the plot and tossed it aside.

"Hey, wouldn't it be cool if the earth's crust was made out of—" I scoured my brain for the right material, and couldn't find it, but then a kid walked by with just the thing, a box of animal crackers, so I said, "Animal crackers? Then it would disappear just like the ozone layer, but for completely different reasons."

"Duo, can't you just be quiet for a few more minutes until we get on the plane?" Mill asked as if it was a monumental task to speak to me.

Like being on the plane would make some kind of difference.

"Yo, Mill! Get a look over there. Think that guy's a spy? Man, I've always wanted to have a suitcase handcuffed to my wrist."

"I could arrange for handcuffs," he muttered.

"That wasn't a _full_ joke there! It was just filler," I whined. "And I don't do kinky sex, either!"

He did have handcuffs, non-metal, plastic ones, real hard ones and threatened to cuff me in the plane's lavatory if I spoke AT ALL on the flight. Well, that was no problemo for me. I sleep on planes. And I did. The whole way to New Germany, I was quiet as a mouse—a dead one, because live ones make lots of noise shuffling around; I know because I've had to sleep with them. The quiet interlude put Mill in a good mood.

While Mill checked in at the car rental service, I rented a car. I didn't really need one; I just wanted to make one less available. I wanted one businessman taking the bus with no car, like me. Mill "I haven't got time for this ridiculousness" _Peas-crap_ ripped up my contract and told the guy at the counter I was an _idiot savant_.

"Hell, I ain't nobody's servant!" I shouted. "Not even yours!"

That got me a laugh from the crowd, but not from Mill. He shoved me all the way to his car, and, _man_, what a car! For awhile, we just sat in this beautiful, sleek, white Jag. He wouldn't let me touch ANYTHING.

"I want to ride in a cold air balloon," I said.

His glazed expression said it all, almost. He added for clarity, "Why?"

"Might as well. This car's not going anywhere either."

He drew his breath and held it. He knew that control-your-temper counting trick, too. "I am checking the GPS before heading out. I haven't been in this area for many years."

"Cool. That's all I needed to know. I mean, I can _read_ minds, but I'm illiterate."

"…fooled me…" He muttered something like that but since it wasn't very nice I didn't make him repeat it.

We drove for what seemed like two hours before he broke the tense silence. "It is dinner time here. We should get our metabolisms set to local time. I'm stopping at a restaurant. You _have_ eaten in restaurants before?"

I knew he was being facetious, so didn't react. I looked out the window taking in the sights. The guy had to have a sense of humor. Everyone does, eventually. Maybe this _was _all he had. How sad. That cheap shot of sarcasm was the best he could do. It had taken him a day with _moi_ to dredge it up. Give him a week with me and we'd be drinking buddies. In a couple months, who knows? Choosing wallpaper together? That got me to chuckling. I kept it down, though, since he was concentrating on parking the car in front of the restaurant, _Le Monde_.

The place was palatial in a Tuscan theme. It said so on the menu, which was a tome, a masterpiece of calligraphy and foreign gibberish requiring a specialist for translation.

"So what's this?" I asked Mill, pointing to an item on the menu.

"_Fettuccini Alfredo_ is macaroni and cheese for adults," he said with a smile.

I gave him a crooked smile to show I appreciated his joke, and then offered up one of my own keen observations. "Thanks, Mill, although I was curious about the sauce ingredients. I know German and some Japanese, but French stumps me…and my Italian's not so hot. _Frites_ _de Poisson_ … _sauce au Vermouth et beurre_. That's not really 'frightful poison' is it?"

"No, it's fancy fish sticks." He smiled and shook his head. "This is a French restaurant, mostly, although they cater to other regions as well. I can't bear the heavy local food. Where did you learn German and Japanese on L2?"

"Man, I'd like to see a fish-stick stick it to a bucket of fish. It would be so literal!" I chuckled and thought how to answer his other question. "Sister Helen at the orphanage taught us German because lots of folks around there spoke it. There were both large Japanese and German communities that immigrated there when it was first built. Japanese – minus the polite parts- was spoken on the streets, rough version, ya know?"

I ordered a chicken sandwich, in German, but I don't think the waitress understood me.

She asked, "How would you like your eggs?"

I thought I would answer her anyway and said, "Incubated! And then raised, plucked, beheaded, cut up, put onto a grill, and then put onto a bun. Damn! I don't have that much time! Scrambled on toast!"

Mill took pity on me or her and ordered me a really good meal of meatloafy-like meat and garlicky, cheesy, mashed potatoes and lots of tiny, tiny peas, which are nice when you want lots of little things to chase on your plate. We scarfed down bread and butter while we waited; at least, I wanted to.

"Don't fill up on that. A whole meal is coming," he said.

I sipped water and waited. The candle burned lower. I crammed more bread into my mouth when I didn't think he was looking. More water, damn, this time a face full of ice cubes!

Finally the food arrived. Peas to play with! I hadn't thought of serving these at home.

"Duo, pass the salt," he said.

Annoyed with my pea-chasing I snapped, "Screw you! Sit closer to the salt."

Mill reached over my plate and grabbed the salt with a really indignant sniff. The man could get his own crap, but I swear he loved ordering me around. Ordering in general pleased him. He ordered beer for both of us and things mellowed immensely after that and we had a nice dinner.

When we got into the car again, all that laid-back, well-stuffed tranquility was gone and we were back to tense, serious, and short-tempered. It was cold, too, and I hated the cold, so I asked him to turn on the heater.

"It's an L2 thing, ya know? Bad thermostats. It was too cold or too hot, but the cold killed us on the streets."

He didn't square that with the present situation, though. "Put on a jacket. You brought one, didn't you?"

"I gotta vest. If I had no arms, it _would_ be a jacket." I was tired of being picked on. I stretched over the seat and retrieved my sport jacket. "What time is it anyway?" I asked.

"Look at your watch. I'm driving."

"I don't wear a watch, because I want my arms to weigh the same. And don't ask because I don't own a cell phone or a pager either. I just hang around everyone I know, all the time."

Okay, I was being a smartass. I was wearing my watch, but it was hard to get at in my pocket, and I did have my cell phone, although at the moment it was resting on the floor of the car where it had fallen out of my jacket pocket, but I did have it. I was just trying to get Mill's goat. I did, apparently.

Mill said to me, "You know what I like? Quiet. Give me thirteen minutes of quiet, please."

I was like, "Dude, you have to give me time to guess! If you're going to quiz me, you have to insert a pause. You know? Like you ask me, 'You know what I like?' And wait for me to guess. Then I say, 'The number thirteen?' Some people think thirteen is an unlucky number, though. I think, if thirteen is unlucky, then twelve and fourteen are guilty by association."

He grunted in a very Heero Yuy-like way and then nothing more was said to break the uncomfortable hush until we arrived at our new digs. I gotta say, the silent treatment just pissed me off. I didn't want him near me. I wanted my room, shower, and bed, in that order.

Mill got out of his car, stepping closer to me as if he wanted to apologize for being an arrogant ass. I immediately stepped back, getting my new duffle out of the back seat of his shiny, white Jaguar. I walked around to the trunk, grabbed my bag full of bathroom stuff and shut the back. Tomorrow, I'd get the rest of the shit out. Tonight, I wanted that shower and a nice comfortable bed. I turned around and Mill was gone, the door to the inside of the house standing wide open. I made my way inside and closed the door behind me. Mill reappeared and nodded his head towards the hallway.

"This way, Duo. I'll show you what we've got."

I followed him down a hall and into the bedroom, where he opened a closet and waved a pearly, white, manicured hand at the obviously empty interior.

"There's plenty of room for your stuff with mine and the same goes for the bathroom. You can go ahead and get a shower if you want; I'll lock up."

"Where's the other bedrooms?"

"They were offices. This is the only bedroom besides the guest room, and it doesn't have a bed, yet. Its delivery's been held up. Didn't you read the file?"

I shook my head. "I was going to read it on the way over. Didn't mean to fall asleep on ya. Anyway, I'm not sleeping in the same bed with you."

As much as I wanted the bed, I was taking the couch.

"Who got us this place anyway? I mean, you say it's a two office, two bedroom house, but I think it's up to me to decide how many bedrooms there are. Lookee here. This bedroom has an oven in it. This bedroom will have a lot of people sitting around watching TV, when they arrive and when we get a TV and a couch to sit on. This bedroom is over in that other guy's house."

I ranted all the way to the "guest" bedroom, which, as Mill had pointed out, was entirely void of comfort.

"There is no couch yet and the futons for the offices are due to be delivered tomorrow, too. This house was only secured a couple days ago." Mill sighed. "I'll take the floor."

"No, I said I would. It's no big deal for me, seeing as how I'm barely a step above street trash. I don't sleep much anyway. It's fine. Where's the other bathroom and I'll use it, too."

"Duo, I hate to break the news to you but we're not supposed to look like roommates; we're supposed to be living together." Mill got up from the bed.

"I've already met up with one of Gunter's associates and they already know about you. Don't blow this because you have a few hang ups on social issues."

I looked at him and in that moment wanted to yank him up by the collar and punch him, but I also wanted to touch him and that scared me. "I don't have any hang ups," I mumbled. "Can't we fight?"

"I guess, but—" he began.

"Then consider it a lover's quarrel. I'll see you in the morning."

I grabbed both of my bags and headed out of the room in search of the other bathroom. I found it and was pissed because there were no towels and I wasn't about to go ask for one. I made my way to the living room and was pissed again, because, just as Mill had said, there was no couch. In fact, there was no furniture at all. I found what Mill had deemed the guest bedroom and tossed my bags down on the floor. I kicked off my boots and lay on the floor, using one of the bags as a lumpy-as-hell pillow. Now, I was pissed because I had looked forward to a bed and the only bed in the house had Mill in it, more than likely half-naked. I pictured Heero in his bed, our bed. I swallowed hard at the thought and closed my eyes even tighter, begging for a sleep that rarely came, to let me escape this new hell.

I hate dreaming. To my thinking, when you sleep, you wanna sleep. Dreaming is work, you know what I mean? There I am in a comfortable bed, the next thing you know I have to build a spare fuel injector for my smoking Gundam with my ex-landlord, but I gotta get to the office in time for that meeting I didn't get around to prepare for, and, damn it all, I can't even remember where the place is and I'm late, late, late! I want a dream of me watching myself sleep.

I must have slept some, because when I opened my eyes they hurt in a room flooded with light. I grabbed my bag full of necessities, and as I managed to stand, the project file slid to the floor. I hadn't looked at it at all, which was odd. I usually had every schematic, name and face inside memorized down to the last detail. Not this time.

I thumbed through the pages, finding a short dossier on my new partner and boss. So the ex-OZ Gundam fighter and prince of the Sanc kingdom had a degree from some fancy-ass university in psychology of all things. Great. I was living with a shrink. My partner was a shrink. I hate shrinks. Shit.

I left the file where it was and made my way to the guest bathroom. I took off my shirt and tossed it down on the counter, still wanting that shower I'd deprived myself of the night before. After brushing my teeth, I shaved and was almost finished when I felt a hand slide down the middle of my bare back. It sent chills across my skin and awakened another part of me that I wished had stayed dead. I moved away but the hand followed.

"What do you want Mill?"

"I'm just looking."

He tugged on the edge of my sweatpants and I shoved his hand away, saying, "Well, stop."

I sighed and watched him leave. I had nothing to do but follow him where he sat in the front doorway. He scooted over and I sat down on the front step.

"Did you get a file on me?" I asked.

"A very thin one." He shifted beside me. "But I assume you only ask because you got one on me."

I nodded, not really knowing what to say. Sun, real sun not artificially generated light, felt warm and good on my arms and face. I just wanted to stay like that and soak it up forever. I looked out at the other houses on the street and then at the one directly in front of us, the house that we were supposed to be watching. It was average and I found it hard to believe a guy in the boy trade wasn't living out in the middle of nowhere. But then again, I couldn't believe that a guy with as much money as our "man of interest", Alric Gunter, was supposed to have would live _here _under any circumstances. This house, our house, was pretty ordinary, too.

I knew that we had to make this believable, but I was unsure of how to do that. To look like the unequal-lovers-but-not-quite-master-and-slave we were pretending to be, we'd have to touch, to communicate. I saw a curtain flicker at the house across the street and instantly my hesitancy faded. I wrapped my arm around Mill and pulled him close.

He must have seen the movement as well, because he turned and in the next second kissed me. It was like heaven and hell at the same time. His kiss was slow and teasing and he tasted of coffee and sweet pastries. He literally took my breath away.

I pulled away and rested my forehead against his, whispering, "This is not me, this is only a job."

He kissed me again, more insistently, slipping his hand up my chest. His kiss left my lips and he began to trail them along my jaw line. "You taste like toothpaste."

He kept kissing me, down my neck and across my throat; it was turning me on more than I wanted to admit. My heart pounded in my chest. I forced a smile and pulled away, caressing his cheek with the palm of my hand.

"Then stop kissing me."

He stood and held his hand out to me, and I accepted. He pulled me close embracing me with his arms. It was a hug that even I'd believe.

"I don't think I can. I've never had anyone as handsome as you in my life, much less this close to me."

I was thinking "Noin's gotta count for something," but then he slid his arm around my waist and led me into the yard, pointing at the shrubbery, as if showing me the landscaping.

"I know it's a job, but still, I guess now I see the benefits."

"You can't afford the premium," I snapped under my breath.

"Duo, you are an exasperating, uncultured, and angry man, I'll give you that one. But you are as handsome and intelligent as you are surly and foolish, and at this point I'm wishing for that ugly and stupid partner, at least then I could see it as just a job as well. I'd be able to pretend, too.

"Huh?"

"Do you know that you have the most beautiful hair and the deepest blue eyes I've ever seen? You are sexy and handsome personified and multiplied. But it isn't just that. There's something else in there, something I like, but something I don't know if I'll ever be able to reach. Deep down, under all these layers of walls and anger, you have a beautiful soul." He smiled and rested his chin on the top of my head. "Don't let it be just a job Duo, I feel a spark here."

"It's _Scythe _now to you_, Wind_, and yeah, a spark that's about to start a raging fire and get you gutted, charcoal to the core." I leaned over, kissed his cheek and spoke. "It's just a job to me and that's all it will ever be. Don't confuse unbelievable with real."

His body went cold against mine. He'd taken a chance and made his confession, while I merrily shot him down. But, deep down it wasn't true. Perhaps the reason that I refused the bed with him the night before was because I was scared, scared that something would actually happen. We'd be here for months "pretending," and he was a very good-looking, elegant, damned sexy man.

Knowing we that were still being watched, I was torn between wanting to walk away and actually wanting to kiss him again. I chose the latter; lacing my fingers through his and leading him back to the door. I pushed him back against the door frame and pressed my body to his, my gaze unable to leave his face. I could feel his erection pressing firmly against me. He leaned forward and kissed me. All I could think about was how good it felt to be held, to be touched, and to be wanted.

He hooked his fingers in the belt loops of my jeans, pulling me tighter against him. A moan escaped my throat, giving away that I was indeed turned on. I slipped one arm around his waist and reached for the door with my other hand. I struggled to push myself away from him. His hands slid up my chest and I shivered instead of pulling away. He broke the kiss and stared at me.

"You certainly run hot and cold. You hide most everything behind that anger of yours or that jester's mask, but," he said, slipping his hand down and cupping me, letting his fingers tease the outline of my erection that straining against the cloth of my jeans, "you can't hide everything."

I shoved him away. It pissed me off for one, that I'd lost so much control, and for the other, that I'd had no way to hide it.

"It doesn't mean anything _Wind_. Yeah, I admit you're hot as hell itself, but I don't want you."

"Have you ever let anyone in _Scythe_? (He finally got the name right.) Have you ever let down those walls long enough to see what's on the other side?"

"Just once."

I clenched my jaw tightly and stared at him as the phone rang in the house someplace, effectively ending the conversation. Mill sighed and walked away from me, heading for the bedroom. I could see it in the way he walked that he was just as angry as he was hurt. Hell, I hadn't even known the guy twenty-four hours and he was getting to me.

"Son of a bitch," I mumbled under my breath.

I had to do something so I went back out to the Jag and unloaded the trunk. Two crates of crap from Preventers, I assumed. I recognized the agency's packing material, actually. I hauled them in and set them down in the way someplace. I got a glass of water, but because there were no glasses, I drank from the tap.

Mill was done with the phone call by the time I readied myself for another face-off. The man was my partner, boss, and married, for gods 'sakes! He had no business coming on to me that way on an infiltration job. It was hard enough separating real from unreal for me, and I was working into my UC persona. I didn't need him coming unhinged on top of it. On second thought, maybe he was having the same problems coming "online" for the role. I decided to give him a little slack.

I crept up behind him as he hung up the receiver and embraced him from behind. One squeeze, then I let go. I saw his confusion over that action and sighed as I pulled him down in tender kiss, the last before I turned him away; in fact, I pushed him away hard. He weighed considerably more than me and was at least nine inches taller, despite my growth spurt.

"If we're going to be seen together, we needed at least some level of intimacy. Good enough for you?" I stepped back. "Hey, I'm not here to open up to you. I'm here to do a job and I'm going to do it well so we can get the fuck out of here."

Mill grabbed a linen sports jacket from the closet and slipped it on. "Fine," he said in a clipped, controlled voice, and walked out of the room. "We need to buy a few things. Join me in five minutes, if you want any say in the purchases."

I changed into a pair of faded jeans and a white tee shirt that said "Don't worry, I piss everyone off." It had been a gift from Quatre a couple years back and both of us had known it suited me at times, times like this. Mill hadn't even shared the details of his conversation with me. Some partner. Well, I wasn't going to ask. Not me. I did not beg. I yanked on my boots and put the rest of my stuff away in the closet and in the dresser drawers.

The door opened and Mill stood there staring at me. I wanted out of there right then like nobody's business.

"Am I holding you up or something?" I pushed past him, kicking one of the plastic crates from the Preventer's agency across the carpet.

"Duo! Those crates contain breakable equipment."

"Oh, forgive me." I turned, left the doorway and returned a few seconds later with another crate, dropping it to the floor and kicking it towards the other. I smiled a smile that never reached my eyes. "Bill the agency; I'm sure it'd be considered a work-related accident. Or should I explain to ole' Noin-babe how her hubby can't get his hands off my butt?"

Mill clenched his jaw so hard I felt _my_ scalp tingle. He grabbed my hand, jerked me out of the room and out of the house, and did not let go until we were in the garage by that damned beautiful white sports car.

"If you ever bring her name up again, I'm warning you, you won't live through it."

"I'd rather fight you than to have my heart stepped all over, Mill."

"I thought you were the hot shot infiltration guy. Able to play any role."

"It's not easy for me to pretend in this, because the attraction is definitely there. It's hard for me to differentiate, too, but I can and I will 'cause I got a home to go back to, just like you do."

"We were paired up for this mission for a purpose," Mill maintained.

"Then the agency fucked up when they put us together, they should have known you wore your heart on your sleeve. To do this kinda work, ya gotta be ready to have it ripped out, lit on fire, and then stomped into the ground. Like I said, I'm here to do a job, not make a new life."

I watched his face fall even more.

"See, that's where you're wrong Duo. I'm not some sensitive guy that wears his heart on his sleeve. I'm every bit as mean and as tough as you are, but for some reason when I'm with you none of that matters. I've been nothing but honest with you since we've met, it'd be nice if you'd do the same."

"I haven't lied to you Mill."

"You're lying to yourself even as we stand here. If you can't even be honest with yourself, I know you can't be completely honest with me." He caressed my face gently with his free hand. "Open up to me Duo, I promise you won't regret it."

I jerked away from his touch letting go of his hand. "This job was held over my head. It was either this or a shrink. How the fuck was I to know it was all one in the same?"

I began walking out of the garage, fuming in anger that he could touch so many places in me with a few simple words. I hated him for that. I heard him walking slowly behind me and wondered if he was thinking about all that had taken place since yesterday, because they were certainly where my thoughts were at this point. I just wanted to go back to my house with Heero and the guys and let everything go. I wanted to crawl under a rock and until I died, which I now wished was soon.

"I don't want to be analyzed, Mill."

"All right. I won't pursue you either."

"Thanks, man. That'll make this go smoother." I smiled, feeling the anger roll away, banished for awhile. I could shed my skin like a snake. "There's one more thing you could do for me."

"To my best ability, anything."

"Ah, don't look so worried, _Wind_." I grinned wider as his eyes widened at my sudden use of his mission code name. "It's just that your kisses tasted like coffee and Danishes and I haven't had a thing to eat yet."

He chuckled with relief, I think. "I got up early to run and found a breakfast shop."

"Oh yeah? Well, I'd get up at the crack of dawn, too, if I'd been sleeping in comfort."

His hand gently steered me back to the garage. "The furniture delivery is scheduled for noon. That was the call. Let's get you breakfast and run our errands so we can meet the truck."

"Okay, boss-man!" I agreed. My cheerful persona had returned, if only temporarily, now that the air was cleared.

We got a call from the agency around four-thirty, saying that through a wiretap on Gunter's phone they had found him to be heading to a club. They wanted us to tag along and visit the club, watching who he spoke with while he was there. To say I was less than pleased about going to this club was an understatement. We had shopped for crap and unloaded crap and moved crap and made up beds and stowed away food and everything, but Mill just seemed to take it in stride. He let me rant, shoved me into the bathroom with my new shampoo, conditioner, and towels, and then lay down for a short nap.

I knew how to dress for clubbing. I knew how to dress as a prostitute. I had to re-learn from Mill how he wanted me to dress as a high-class commodity-lover ready to down drugs with abandon and eventually impress some rich dude to buy my soul, or something. We had our argument over clothing choices because my wardrobe was purchased for me, sight unseen by me. Some would have to be re-tailored for sure. Now, it was just a matter of getting my hair right.

I insisted that it remain braided, at least for the clubs. I didn't want strangers grabbing my long, loose locks in tight quarters. He relented and I wore his choice of gray, striped slacks with a white button-down shirt. I only buttoned the center button, exposing my neck and stomach when I moved. I looked like a rich college slut, which I guess was what I was supposed to resemble. For all my effort, all I got was a nod from Mill before we drove off in his slinky car. He finally spoke to me as he took my hand as we stood in line to enter the club.

"Just play the part, _Scythe_."

"I plan on it, Master _Wind_."

When we finally made it through the door, Mill slid his arm around my waist and I felt like I was burning everywhere he touched me. I must have flinched, because he drew his arm away.

"Since my touch disgusts you so much, I guess I'll just hold hands with you when people are paying attention."

"Oh, quit whining like a fucking baby," I said none too politely. I leaned over, pulling at his lapels to get him to bend, and whispered in his ear. "Look to the tables in the far right corner of the club. That looks like the man in the file-photo."

I was pleased at his change of expression. I'll bet he didn't think I actually read the mission file. Mill casually turned and grabbed my hand, leading me to the dance floor. He nodded at me.

"It's him. Let's draw his attention."

I could not dance for shit all tensed up like I was, but I also knew that Mill's idea was good. If we could draw Gunter's attention, perhaps we could get closer to him a little sooner. I wrapped my arms around Mill as a slower song began and let him take control. I basically just stood and swayed, letting my hands roam over his body as he ground against me to the beat of the music. It took every bit of control I had to keep the hard-on away.

I looked up in Gunter's direction after about an hour of dancing and he was staring at us. I smiled and let my eyes wander to the younger-looking boys at the table with him. At the same time, I wet my lips with my tongue as I stared at them, and swallowed the bile that had risen in my throat. The boys at the table looked no older than fifteen years old at most. Gunter himself was well into his forties. As I let my gaze wander back to Gunter, he winked and turned back to his table.

Mill leaned forward and nibbled to lobe of my ear. Unexpectedly, I gasped and my breath quickened. He laughed this husky, very seductive laugh and kissed down my neck.

"Don't pull away. I know you don't think he's still watching, but someone at that table is."

I shivered as his tongue licked across the hollow of my throat. "Stop." I whispered. "You don't have to go overboard."

"Of course we do; he's interested."

"Yeah well," I leaned in so close to his face, one slight move and a hop up would make us kiss. "I'm not."

We stayed in the club for another hour or so, kissing, touching, acting and playing the part. I'd never touched anyone in public in my entire life like I'd touched Mill. He was easy for me to touch. Sexy and handsome as hell with his smooth manners, aristocratic face, and fit body. If I had any lingering doubts about my sexual preferences, they were gone now. I guess not only Heero could excite me. That alone, scared the hell out of me.

End, It's Back to Work, Chapter Four


	12. It’s Back to Work Chapter 5

**DEFYING GRAVITY**

Part Two: It's Back to Work

Chapter Five

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Gundam Wing or its characters, nor do I make any monetary profit off this story.  
Warnings: 1x2x1, 3x4x3, AU, yaoi, some language  
--Kaeru Shisho 5/11/2007 6:27

* * *

Mill and I left the club shortly after Gunter did. None of the boys at the table left with him, and I was thankful for that. Strangely, I'd sleep better that night not knowing who the creep was molesting. Anyway, Gunter left the club alone. As soon as we had made it to the Jaguar, Mill had closed up and not spoken another word. He pulled into the garage, shut the Jaguar off, and as he started to get out I touched his shoulder lightly. 

"Mill?"

"Yes, _Scythe_. You don't have to let me know time and time again that this is nothing but a job for you. I heard you loud and clear."

He got out, slammed the Jaguar's door, and then slammed the door to the house, and then I guess for good measure, he slammed the bedroom door when he went through it. I made my way into the house and kicked my shoes off at the door. Since we now had a couch and two futons—the guest room bed would arrive from the store tomorrow, maybe—I wouldn't have to take the floor again. I didn't know if my back could have taken another night of floor business.

I chose the black futon and closed my eyes, determined to get to sleep, but all I could see was Mill's face. I could see the hurt that I'd so plainly given him throughout the day, and it bothered me. It made me nauseous, and it made me want to take him in my arms and apologize. For what? He was the one overstepping the boundaries. He was making serious moves on me. Or was he? It probably took a lot of mental game play for a straight, married man to pretend he loved younger boys and act on it.

The more I thought about it, the more I figured I'd read him wrong. Maybe I hadn't heard him right. I know, I don't think I could pretend to take on a lover four years younger than me. I did the math and my stomach recoiled. That was just plain sicko. Okay, so it wasn't quite that bad for Mill. I was of legal, consenting age, but still. For him this had to be a stretch. He was clearly going to be wretched at it, go overboard, and overdo. That's what it was.

My eyes flew open and I took a deep breath. "God help me, I'm playing 'psychoanalyzing a shrink'."

I had been staring at the ceiling for nearly an hour. At some point last night I'd fallen asleep, but in place of the war-torn dreams I'd had my entire life, I'd dreamed about Mill. Aside from his touch, I dreamed of his feelings. The knowledge that I had hurt Mill—while he was maybe a little out of line but just doing his job getting into character in his own stupid way—had haunted me all night. I had made a decision of sorts between pacing the patio in the back yard and trying to lie still and go to sleep.

I realized that the next two months didn't have to be completely unbearable. I understood what Mill had meant when he said that he had a hard time differentiating between real and believable, and knew this would happen. I just had to center my thoughts on my new home, my buds, and on my boyfriend, Heero. He'd be waiting for me when this was over. He'd be part of the extraction before that. Heero would be my anchor.

Still, dancing with Mill the night before, even though it was for show, was wonderful. Never mind that I couldn't dance for shit being all distracted and nervous. I knew that his touch, his firm yet sure and gentle caresses, and his soft-burning kisses were things that could not be real. Heero was real; this was deep undercover. Still, it was hard to fight the testosterone coursing through my body fanning desires, demanding that I get laid, and soon.

Taking a cleansing breath, I found some clean clothes and dressed. The door to the bedroom gaped wide open, inviting me in. I heard water running and assumed that Mill was in the shower. But when I crossed the doorway to the bathroom, he was standing at the sink, shaving. The towel around his hips was way too small to cover his assets.

I leaned against the doorway with my hands shoved into the pockets of my jeans. I just couldn't seem to take my eyes off of him. His back was perfectly muscled, as were his arms, his shoulders were broad, and his hips lean, with a tight muscular ass and gorgeous legs. And his hair was nearly as long as mine and shimmery, white-blond. Damn it, I couldn't help but look.

Mill's eyes met mine in the mirror a few seconds before he spoke. "What? Think of something else that you failed to mention yesterday or last night?"

"Actually, I did think of something," I said hoarsely.

I wanted to forget it all and leave it like it was, but I just couldn't. Mill hadn't deserved all of the anger I'd pushed over on him. I walked towards him, forcing my feet to move across the floor.

"Mill..."

I started to speak and as he turned to look at me, my breath caught in my throat. He was so beautiful in that moment. I thought that I'd never breathe again. My brain detached from my body.

"What?" he asked.

I could see that he was just waiting for the next harsh words to come spewing from my mouth. My next action I think surprised me more than it did him. Unable to resist touching him, I raised my hand and grazed the pad of my thumb lightly over his lips.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be such an—"

"Unprofessional."

"Uh, that, too. I was thinking 'asshole.'"

"Covers all the bases." He smiled and gestured at his very large bed. "Care to share? I promise not to touch you."

"Looks inviting, but no thanks. Futon's cool."

"Fine then."

"Yeah, but no more head games with me. You're straight and I'm, ah, well, it gets to me, that's all."

His expression was quizzical like he wanted to ask more questions, but he returned to his friendly business demeanor. "Groceries today. I could use more towels and some decent wine. And then we should open the crates from the agency and get set up."

"Yeah, cool."

I had to admit the thought of grocery shopping was not high on my list of priorities in life, but the fact that the agency was footing the bill helped—so was the fact that Mill was letting me drive his fancy-ass car today. We quickly made use of the agency's generous allowance and ended up buying things that we never would have touched before. I informed Mill that I was accomplished in the kitchen, which surprised him, I'm sure. Still, he had the balls to simply take it in stride as if all Gundam pilot kids were naturally multi-talented. I loaded the cart with spices, utensils, and the staples we hadn't picked up before.

"Hey, how about some enthusiasm here," I said in mock anger this time, hoping he could tell the difference. "I'm not kidding. I'm a damned great cook and you are one lucky man to have me."

He blushed and smiled. "I am grateful. We won't have to starve after all. I can make tea, with a microwave."

As I pulled the car into the garage, I noticed a basket sitting beside the front door. We both got out and eyed it suspiciously. Mill plucked the card out of the envelope and then held it gingerly between his fingers. He looked up at me and smiled.

"Look at that, we didn't even have to make first contact."

"Oh, shut up. You sound like a knock-off from some old sci-fi episode." I leaned over and whispered into his ear, "beware of the gift horse."

"Ah…" he muttered, nodding in understanding.

After the groceries had been brought in we had to do a little thinking. With the basket on the kitchen table, a Pavarotti CD – not mine!-- belting it out from the disc player, and us in the bathroom with the water running, we made a plan for going through the basket and dropping it in something liquid. I just knew there was something funny about it and now, hopefully, the agency would be able to have a hard set of fingerprints from our Alric Gunter, via the card.

"We have to take that basket apart," I insisted.

"I know. I don't really think that there's anything in it but fruit, wine, and cheese, but I guess we do have to make sure."

I leaned close to him so I didn't have to shout. "We'll have to get a notepad from the bedroom so we don't have to go through Pavarotti and an un-godly amount of water when we want to talk."

Mill nodded and turned the water off as he headed out of the bathroom. After I relieved myself, I followed him into the dining room, where I watched Mill don a pair of gloves and begin his examination of the basket's contents. He picked through the items, putting each interesting tidbit on the table.

"Isn't this nice?" he said holding up a cheese for me to 'ooh and ahh' over. "Looks like whoever sent this took the time to hand-wrap each thing in… such smart paper and coordinating ribbons!"

I giggled. Hell if _I_ was eating any of it, and I thought my partner here had just turned into a girl. He picked up the bottle of wine and examined the cork area. Nothing looked like it had been tampered with, but I shook my head. Mill grabbed a box of chocolates from the bottom of the basket and I grabbed his hand. It was my turn to gush.

"Oh, _Wind_!" I remembered to use his codename, which drew a puzzled look on his face until he caught on to what I was doing. "How wonderful! I love those chocolates!"

He raised his eyebrow at me like I'd lost my mind, probably the exact same look I'd given him. I pointed to the bottom of the basket, doing little charade act to hint at the obvious false bottom. I let go of Mill's hand and nodded to him.

"Open the package and I'll open the wine."

"Don't you want to wait till later?" Mill purred seductively.

"No," I said as I got out my knife and began to pry the bottom of the basket apart. "You _know_ how I am about chocolate. It's kind of like most drugs, one taste and I'm hooked."

Mill made quite a bit of noise crinkling the paper as if removing the shrink-wrap. I was thankful for the cover noise as I popped the bottom open and saw that there was a tiny black transmitter on the inside. I shook my head, wondering why they would bug a gift basket. There was no way that Gunter could know that we were watching him or who we were. Was this the way that he found new victims or friends? I shuddered to think so.

Mill shook his head and grabbed the bottle of wine. "Let's open the wine shall we?"

I took it and opened it, pouring some into a glass and a little more on the transmitter. "Damn! _Wind_, would you get me a towel? I spilled a little wine into the basket."

Mill looked at me and rolled his eyes. "You didn't! I liked that basket. Now, if I want to use it for anything, it's going to smell like mildewed wine."

"I'm sorry. You know how I can be."

"Do I?" he said, wincing as I grabbed my knife and aimed, punching right through the middle of the transmitter. I held it up to him and removed it, dropping it into the glass of wine. It was safe to talk freely now.

"This sucks you know."

"I know, Duo."

I raised my eyebrows at him. "You're not going to ask me what sucks?"

"Okay, what… sucks?" he said, although the last word did not come naturally to his royal tongue.

"I think this is how he finds his friends." I put everything into the basket and went to the sink with the wine, emptying the bottle. "He probably listens to the kinds of conversations that go on behind closed doors and decides if they're his type or not. We need seedier conversation, and I don't know if you can do that."

He didn't disagree. "We also need to get that equipment up and running, the alarm and security system installed, as well as the computers all patched into the networks." Mill ran his hands through his silky, white-blond hair. "I don't want to have to worry about what we say in our own damn house. We have tools in one of those crates to sweep the place."

"Our house, huh?"

"For the next few months it is." Mill turned and started down the hallway. "It's supposed to be the other way around; we're supposed to be watching them. I absolutely hate this."

I stood there in the kitchen knowing exactly how he felt and remembering that all of the groceries still sat on the counter. I put everything away and sat down at the table, staring at the transmitter sitting in the glass of wine.

I was suddenly motivated to action. I ripped the seal off the nearest crate and found state of the art ultra-directional microphones. These are like the microphones seen on camcorders, or carried by sound technicians and receive signals only from one direction. The most high-tech directional microphones can eavesdrop on conversations from a hundred meters away or more, and these were those, I could tell.

Deeper in more bubble wrap, I found laser microphones. These were very expensive and highly technical to operate. One of the crates I expected would contain our computer to control all this monitoring equipment. Which reminded me to install Heero's latest anti-trojan horse virus checker so someone else wouldn't be able to acquire access to the microphones connected to computer.

The most sensitive equipment we got could scan for magnetic fields or for the characteristic electrical "noise" emitted by the computerized technology in digital tape recorders. However, if the place being monitored had many computers, photocopiers or other pieces of electrical equipment installed, we might not be able to filter out the interesting from mundane. Older analog equipment would be even more difficult to detect.

Another method of snooping used very sensitive infrared camera to detect waste heat of a bug, or different thermal conductivity of a place where it is hidden after briefly chilling the surface of the object with eg. liquid nitrogen, but I hadn't found any of those cameras in the box. And Heero had promised!

I located the phone line security, tap detectors, nullifiers, radio frequency detectors and scanners, hidden camera detectors, and few pieces of counter surveillance equipment I didn't recognize. I smiled. These were like toys for a bored kid, and with just one hot-looking male companion for entertainment, I was in dire need of diversion.

I checked a second crate and found more monitoring tools of the trade. In the third were the computers and networking tools needed to complete the package. I would be very busy for the next few days.

In three days, we managed to get the alarms, the security system, and a few surveillance cameras up that covered the entire perimeter of our house. This I would have to sweep at random times because the whole process is not foolproof. Advanced bugs can be remotely operated to switch on and off, and some even rapidly switch frequencies according to a predetermined pattern in order to make location with sweepers more difficult. A bug that has run out of power may not show up, which means that the sweeper will not be alerted to the surveillance. And if Trowa were doing this, he could have come up with a dozen more problems that regularly crop up.

Mill had been in the attic all morning working on wiring and concealing the cameras that were directed at the target's house. I heard him cursing and shuffling tools around again, wishing he'd thought to have Trowa show up sooner to do the work at which he was an expert.

I laughed to myself and kept working on the codes to patch everything in to my laptop as well as his. I knew Trowa would redo all the work Mill did anyway, but saw no reason to tell the poor dude and ruin his sense of accomplishment.

A few minutes later, I heard Mill in the kitchen rattling dishes. Checking the codes again, I brought up the feed from each one of the cameras except for one, the one he'd been having problems with. I sighed and shook my head, getting up to go find Mill. He met me in the doorway of the office with a glass of ice tea.

"I hate to tell you this Mill—"

He cut me off and said, "Yes, I know. We need a new camera. I've done everything I know how to that one and just can't get it to work."

"It's okay. We'll manage with what we have until your next report back to the agency. Heero and Wufei are supposed to be getting some thermal imaging and night vision cameras as well. I think they'll be better in the long run anyway. Trowa can pack it with him when he moves in."

Mill nodded, agreeing with me. "The thermal cameras are absolutely necessary, I agree. As the weather gets cooler, it'll pick up body heat signals really well. I'll be sure to let them know what we need."

He walked to the desk and pushed a few buttons on his laptop. He stared at the screen, reading a few lines of codes I'd entered. I knew he was about to ask me about encryption, or at least I hoped that he was about to. A good agent would assume, but ask to be sure.

"Yes, I encrypted the feeds," I said as I moved up behind him. I reached around his arm and pulled up another set of codes. "These are for the alarms. The motion sensors all double as an optic unit once they're triggered, so we'll be able to get an immediate visual on what tripped it."

Mill smiled. "Your friends really know how to set you up."

"This stuff? All agency crap. Trowa will bring the real deal."

He turned and leaned against the desk, looking at me. "That equipment cost more than your salary for the entire war, I imagine."

"Lots more. I wasn't paid."

"Nothing?"

"Not a dime. Did it for love, baby. Didn't anybody tell you? All you need is love… Love makes the world go 'round… make love not war…"

I was on a roll, but he interrupted me. "But you understand why I was so pissed about you kicking around the crates?"

I leaned against the desk, standing shoulder to elbow beside him. "I'm sorry about the other day Mill. I know we've been really busy getting everything set up, but I needed to tell you that."

"Are you sorry you did it at all or sorry because you feel guilty?"

"I'm sorry that I treated you that way, but not sorry for keeping it real."

He bumped my shoulder with his. "I see."

"Let's go out tonight," I suggested.

He raised an eyebrow. "Out where?"

"To the movies, to a bar, the theater, something...just anywhere but here. I'm starting to feel like I'm at work and can't escape."

He shook his head. "It's going to get a lot worse."

"I know it is. I just need to get out of here for a while. I've done nothing but think about codes and bugs and evil men, and since there's nothing to do here but think and work, I'm going crazy."

"No bar. I think that if I stepped one foot in one at this point, you'd have to carry me home," he said, smiling ruefully.

"Yeah, I guess me, too." And I knew that to be the truth. If I had one beer or one shot right now, it wouldn't be enough. As it was, I'd been through five six-packs in three days. "Movies?"

"Sounds good to me," he laughed. "I don't think I've been to the movies in four years at least; that is, one that didn't have a "G" rating and a hall filled with children. Last time I saw an adult-only film, I was on a sting. You look tense, _Scythe._"

"I'm fine." I said quietly.

In the next second, I cried out and flinched as he massaged a knot under my shoulder blade. "Son of a bitch that hurts!"

He raised my shirt and took it off as I fought to keep it on. "Your shirt's in the way and keeps bunching up. Get over it. Sit!"

I sat on the bed and he pushed me over, stomach-side down. He restarted the work-over and after a few minutes the pain was beginning to recede.

"Shit, Mill, it feels better already. You do have some hidden skills."

"Yes, well, Preventer's paid good money for me to go to school for massage therapy a few years ago. At least their money didn't go to waste." He pulled me closer and wrapped his hands around my bare stomach. He began kissing my neck and then along the middle of my back. I could feel his chest pressing into my back. "But, some things I had to learn all on my own."

My heart beat heavy against my chest and he was giving me chills, not to mention the hard-on that I was accumulating. "You have to stop Mill."

"Why?"

"Because there's no one here to stop this, but us."

I knew that if he didn't stop, things would go farther than either of us had ever intended. I wanted to be touched and kissed, but I wanted it to be Heero and not my work partner. I was scared as hell of what to do.

"I don't want to stop this Duo. It feels so fucking right, I just want to hold you and not let go."

His hands eased up my chest, his fingertips grazing my nipples.

"I never needed anyone on these missions, _Wind_. I gave myself the safest thing I knew and that was solitude. I went into the Preventer's because I could bury myself in my work. People there don't question the way you swing. Sex was never an issue. It was being the toughest and the best, doing my job, and doing it well. But I have to tell you, until my vacation just before I got this assignment, after being with someone… special. I never knew just how much being alone really sucks. I found someone, _my someone_."

I twisted around and kissed his forehead. "And as much as my body is screaming 'more, more' at me right now, I'm not risking what I know is waiting for me at home. I know you got something great back home waiting for you too. We can't let this job destroy any of that for either of us. I don't know if I'd get a second chance. For me, having a real relationship is all just too new a thing to jeopardize."

We lay there in silence for several minutes. Mill broke it first.

"I can't believe that Une put us on this case. We're supposed to act like we're interested in young, teenage boys, great art, and getting high. We are both in committed relationships, is seems, and we don't do drugs. I guess I know art, but I'm no expert."

I shrugged and locked eyes with him.

"This is going to be the hardest thing I've ever done," he admitted. "And when it's over, I'm going to need a really long shower because I'm going to feel like the biggest slime-ball on the planet."

"Well, there was a time when I thought you were," I quipped.

Mill smiled. "And you were such an obnoxious thorn in my side."

"I think, though, I should tell you—"

"You actually are a druggie?"

"No, Mill. Unlikely with all the blood work they do on me, that I gotta pass with flying colors in order to carry the guns I do. No, that's not what I was getting to." I drew a deep breath, then another. "Here goes… See, I do like teenage boys, well, one in particular, my boyfriend. Um, that's the relationship I've got going."

I didn't wait to hear his response to that, but kept right on going in true Maxwell style. "But, everything you and I do is a front, and we both know it, even if we might sometimes lose sight of that fact—it is not real. This is not real."

"Um, what else?" I said to myself more than to him. I didn't want to give him the chance to react to my confession. "Oh! The porn web-site is already together thanks to the techie guys, and when we manage to make contact with one of the boys, he's ours, he's out, and he's safe. That's what's important. We already know what they think we're going to do with them, but that doesn't matter. I even got the business cards for it!"

"Do I know him?" Mill asked quietly.

"Him? Oh, um… I'm not going to tell you who, so don't pressure me." I laid my head back on the pillow. "At least we get to get high without getting high." I looked over at him. "Have you ever actually been high?"

He shook his head. "Nope."

"Oh, this is funny. I've watched enough of the undercover tapes to get an idea of what most drugs do to a person over the past years, but I've never been high a day in my life. Seriously drunk, but not high."

Mill leaned down and kissed me, biting my lip gently, sending chills over my body. "It's a good thing the agency developed that serum for us UC's. Otherwise, we'd never be able to go in and snort, shoot and smoke that shit, and still be able to think straight. The damn drugs are neutralized as soon as they enter our bodies."

"Yeah, I got it mostly covered the first time as a Gundam pilot with all kinds of anti-drug and toxin treatments, but Une made sure I kept my boosters up to date, or did the first year."

"That reminds me," he smiled at me. "Our latest injections were brought by the pizza delivery guy. We should eat before the movie."

"Oh, the Preventer's is a smart bunch of fucks," I said with a groan.

Mill laughed. I rose up and pushed him back on the pillows, kissing a line down his throat. He looked as if he was expecting me to do more, in spite of my little speech, so I punched him in a friendly way and jumped up.

"I'm going to eat that pizza first," I told him.

"Hey, don't eat it all. It's for us to share!"

"Yeah, right," I said, laughing. "Tell that to a street rat!"

End, It's Back to Work, Chapter Five


	13. It’s Back to Work Chapter 6

**DEFYING GRAVITY**

Part Two: It's Back to Work

**Chapter Six**

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Gundam Wing or its characters, nor do I make any monetary profit off this story.  
Warnings: 1x2x1, 3x4x3, AU, yaoi, some language, drug abuse  
--Kaeru Shisho 5/11/2007 6:27

* * *

Over the next few weeks, Mill and I worked out our re-la-shun-ship like real adults. We partied, bar-hopped, clubbed enough to establish our reputations as player and "bitch" of player. But, as things were happening under our own roof—foundations being built, emotional walls being torn down and re-erected—absolutely nothing was happening in the house that we were watching across the street. Our intended target was awfully quiet. 

I got up from the desk and turned off the screen to the laptop, going into the kitchen to find Mill, who was turning the marinating steaks for dinner. I walked behind him, wrapped my arms around his waist and nuzzled the hair at the nape of his neck.

"Do you know how much I love to watch you, _Wind_?"

"That is your stomach doing the talking, I know. How long do these need to rest before cooking?"

"The longer the better."

He shivered in my arms. I liked getting those kinds of responses out of him. I did not imagine it, either. I liked—no—I loved the way his beautiful gray-blue eyes turned to a darker shade of lust when he looked at me. The fact that he could get a raging hard-on from a simple kiss was the most wonderful feeling in the world. Knowing that he wanted me, made me try to even harder to be the man that he wanted me to be.

It was necessary that we project that kind of intimacy to pull off the job.

Oh, I hadn't changed much _per se_, but my anger and down right brash and rude comments didn't have a place between us. Mill just ignored half of them anyway, and I got no satisfaction from that. I still had a hard time letting it go with the rest of the world, but I did as I let our roles consume me.

"Anything happening?" Mill asked, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"No, and I don't see anything happening until Gunter gets back to the house. I have the feed from his cameras pulled up and I've got them all singled out. The motion sensors have been temporarily suspended and I'm about to go exploring, while I have control of the house." I leaned in and nipped his ear. "Are you about done so you can watch over me?"

"My part of the dinner preparation is complete, like I'd let you be that foolish without watching over you." He stepped over and washed his hands and I stepped with him, still holding on tightly. "Promise me _Scythe_: just the cameras, the tracking devices, and a couple of bugs. Do not go inside of that house until we get a bona-fide invitation."

"I promise boss-man." I turned him around and kissed his lips. "Just watch over me and keep in radio contact. I'll be in and out with no worries. The codes are already in my system. Pull them up as I place the cameras, and we'll know for sure if they're in a good position."

"You are actually trusting me to watch your back?" Mill eyed me cautiously.

I met and held his eyes. "You and I both know that I still have a few issues, but I'm trying Mill. I feel like I can trust you."

He rested his forehead on my shoulder and pressed his hand against my stomach. "What do I have to do for you to know it here, in your gut, Duo?"

"Hey, I'm getting there. Did you honestly expect us to come this far at all?"

Mill sighed heavily and looked away. "No."

"Yeah, well, you've been blinded by miss-applied lust."

I sighed, taking him by the hand and leading him into the office where I'd been earlier. I placed the small flesh-colored patches that served as a microphone transmitter to my throat and another small patch behind my left ear that took the place of a standard earpiece.

"Tap into these very carefully and see if they're up. Try not to ruin my hearing for the rest of my life in the process." I fit the cameras into my pockets and leaned over, giving Mill a kiss as he sat in the office chair. "Keep me company?"

He nodded and smiled as he began typing and entering my codes into the computer. I walked out of the office, mentally preparing for what I was about to do. I made my way out of the house and into the garage, waiting for Mill's voice to come through the patch. I knew where I thought that the transmitters and cameras would do the best work, unfortunately that was in the damned house. However, I also felt that if I placed them just right in certain areas, I could bring the frequencies up on several transmitters at a time, doubling or even tripling the sound that came through. I ambled over, seemingly carefree down the block as if I was taking my daily stroll.

"Hey, gorgeous," Mill's voice purred through the receiver.

I could do no more than groan and I knew that he had liked that sound. He always liked the sound of those groans. "Don't start."

His voice alone could make me hard at times and I found it distracting. There had been people that I might have imagined getting off with, but there had been only Heero who had actually made my cock spring to life. Now i knew Mill could excite me, too, and wanted it to go away. I tried not to think about Mill or Heero.

"I know someone's home, I can feel it."

"Servants or guards—who knows? Too bad we can't see through walls," he said quietly. "But by the body heat signals on the house, they're all at the other end."

I walked as Mill spoke to me through the nearly invisible patch, making my way across the front yard and then into the garage of our target. I placed a camera facing into the garage hidden in a vent in the roof overhang and then positioned tracking devices in the undercarriage of the white utility van as well as the twin BMW's. As I lay underneath the rightmost of the twin sedans, I heard Mill's voice quietly come through.

"Hold your position. We've got a body-heat sig heading right for the garage."

I pulled my body underneath the car, thankful for my small size once again, and turned my head looking towards the door. The door opened and I saw feet, bare feet, those of a child. I almost moved out from under the car when I heard Mill's voice again.

"Don't even think about it. There's another signature heading towards the first and it's a lot bigger. I'm trying to pull up the bugs."

I waited, unable to tell him that I'd not placed them. I eased one out of my pocket and turned it on, holding it flat in my hand. I hate waiting and watching, trying not to blow my cover, when I know that people, and especially kids, are moving into a dangerous situation. This little kid that was walking quietly through the garage seemed cautious. I heard another voice, another male voice, from the direction of the door that the child had come from. All I could see of the adult male were black jeans on his legs and black boots.

"Jimmy," the male said. "You were told when you arrived that you were not to step foot outside of the house. What are you doing out here?"

The child, with the voice of a young boy, stuttered. "I...I just wanted to...I want to play outside."

"No."

"But...when can I go home?"

"This is your home now Jimmy and this is where you stay now. Herr Gunter explained that to you when you came to live with him."

"But my mom..."

"Doesn't want you Jimmy. Herr Gunter was kind enough to take you into his home and feed and clothe you. Do not make him angry for disobeying him. He would hate to have to punish you for being disobedient in what you were instructed."

"Please no. Don't, I promise I'll be good, just please don't tell him I was out here," the boy pleaded.

I could hear the fear and the panic in his voice and it made me hurt. It hurt me deeply that I couldn't just roll out from under that car and take him home. I was having a hard time breathing by this point. I watched as the male stepped closer to the boy and squatted in front of him. I could see more of the male now and on his hip was a .38 special. Oh lovely, I thought, guarding helpless kids with armed men.

The man gave a small chuckle. "Have you ever been punished?"

The boy didn't give an audible response, but somehow I knew that he'd nodded that he had.

"Well then, you know exactly what happens when you don't do as you're told. I'll not say anything about this Jimmy, but I won't forget about it either."

The man stood and began walking the child back inside the house. I must have whimpered or made some sort of sound, because next I heard Mill's voice came through ever so softly.

"Breathe baby. Just lay there a minute and breathe. They're walking towards the other side of the house now."

I took a deep breath and lay there, still, underneath the car. I whispered, "Tell me that you recorded that, please tell me you got all of that."

"I did, babe, and I'm sending the video feed as well as the audio feed to the Preventer's now. You okay?"

I lay there with chills running through my body. "No," I whispered. "Not really. Can I get up now?"

"You're clear. Place the rest of those cameras and the bugs and get out of there."

I rolled out from under the car, thankful that I'd placed that first camera when I'd entered the garage. I placed the bugs in the places that I'd designated and hoped I'd be able to combine them later on. As I placed another camera, I had a thought.

"_Wind_?"

"Hum?"

"Can you tell where he took the boy?"

"He's in the very last bedroom, which from what I can tell is the one in the corner in the backyard. There are two other signatures in that room, about his size. The adult is in what we've mapped as the living room with one other. Why?"

I shrugged knowing he couldn't see me and wasn't going to answer him. I then realized he probably could see me, but I'd already made up my mind. I needed to get a bug into that room and a camera if I could help it. Even getting a bug close to that room would help.

"Don't do it, _Scythe_. Leave it and get out."

I still didn't answer as I made my way into the backyard and through the shrubbery and other trees; and moved over to the window of the room the children were in. I slipped the screen off of the window and noticed that there was an alarm that went off if the window was raised. There was just enough room to raise the window about an inch and a half without setting off the alarm.

"Damn it, _Scythe_, you're going to fuck this up. Get out of there and we'll come up with something. Duo!"

I raised the window up that fraction of an inch and placed the bug in the window track as I listened to a very angry Mill rant and carry on. There were heavy curtains covering the window and I knew that there was no way to put in a camera here. I could hear movement in the room, but I didn't want to move the curtains and give my presence away. I shut the window carefully and replaced the screen. There was nothing else I could do.

I swiftly disappeared and reappeared a moment later on the sidewalk and began my leisurely afternoon walk down the street again. After another twenty minutes, I stood in our own garage, taking a deep breath, centering my thoughts, and calming my pounding heart, before I went into the house.

Inside the house, I looked for Mill, peeling the patches from my throat and from behind my ear on my way to the office. He was on the laptop, typing irritably. I walked up to him and placed my hand on his shoulder.

"I could not just leave without trying. I need you to understand that."

He took a deep breath and kept typing. "If our cover is blown, those kids have to stay there; they don't have a chance of getting out. Don't you understand that?"

"I know that but..."

"But nothing. We do not have enough evidence to bring this down. I've got pictures of the boy and the man that came after him and we'll get an identity soon enough. Until we know who that kid is, until we know that that kid doesn't really belong there, there's nothing we can do. For all we know, the kids' mother didn't want him and Gunter is now his guardian."

"Are you telling me you didn't hear the fear and panic in that little boy's voice?"

"I heard, _Scythe_, but the guy only mentioned punishment; he didn't say what kind and didn't touch him in any suggestive way. For all we know, the punishment could be standing in the corner."

"How could you think that's all it is? I know that voice; I know that pleading and that fear. That boy does not belong there."

I moved my hand from Mill's shoulder, unbelieving that he could be so cold about this. Mill got up from the chair and tried to slip his arms around my shoulders, but I backed away.

"Don't," I said angrily. I wanted him to know exactly how I felt.

"Duo," he said quietly. "_Scythe_, I'm not saying that I believe it's that way. I'm saying that what we have right now is circumstantial evidence and we have to wait. We certainly don't want him to get off because we jumped the gun and raided his house, when he wasn't even there mind you, and didn't have enough evidence to fry the bastard."

I knew that what Mill was telling me was true. Any other time, I knew I'd probably be agreeing, but I'd never had a case like this before. Not one that involved kids like this. Not one where if I changed the plans on the strength of my gut feeling, that no one would question me. I wrapped my arms around him, buried my face in his shoulder, and closed my eyes.

"Gods, _Wind_. Those kids are in there and we can't do anything about it. They're being hurt and we're sitting here across the street, waiting to see enough of it."

"I know. What is it you always say? Hold on, give me a second…I read your file…Oh, yes: 'I love my job!'"

"I never really mean that, you know, and this time, I'm really beginning to hate my job."

I moved over and sat in the chair, pulling up all of Gunter's own cameras and monitors, forcing them to relinquish control over to me. I brought up the devices that I'd planted and set them up to sound an alarm when activity began on any of them. I routed the feed from the bugs into separate files, so that they could be replayed each day, knowing I'd be unable to sit and listen if something was happening.

Mill stood behind me, running his hands through my long brown hair, loosening it from the braid. When I told him I was cutting it two days ago, he'd begged me not to cut it. At the time, I'd laughed, meaning to cut it anyway. But, when he started this thing of massaging my scalp and running his fingers through my hair, I just couldn't do it. His touch to me was comforting and reassuring and I craved it like nothing else.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"About what?" I asked, knowing what he meant.

He'd been trying to get me to open up even more about what happened between the time that I was born until I was suited up in a Gundam at fifteen. Never in my life had I known that talking about things that hurt actually served to help ease that pain, except to Heero. I knew though that Mill could be another one I could talk to about anything, but I felt guilty enough giving him my trust and allowing his touch, sharing the closeness Heero and I had worked so hard to achieve with another man.

"What you're feeling."

"I'm feeling disgusted." I sat as I sat back in the chair, feeling his fingers massage my scalp so expertly. "Totally and completely disgusted."

"You're not the only one, believe me."

"When I lived on L2, what happened to strays, the boys and girls…" I paused. My stomach lurched violently at the images from my past and I jumped up from the chair, running towards the bathroom. I barely made it to the toilet when I began retching into it. I knelt in front of that porcelain goddess and held on tightly. Every time I thought I had thrown up every bit of anything in my stomach, a new image would flash in my mind, causing it to begin all over again.

I felt a cool cloth on the back of my neck and shivered. Mill was now kneeling behind me, wrapping one arm around my chest and pulling me against him, taking the cloth with his free hand and pressing it to my forehead. I sank into his arms there on the bathroom floor and Gods forbid, I actually cried.

The first few days following my episode were quiet. I think Mill was afraid to broach the subject with me again. I knew he'd gone so far as to slip me a sedative in my beer the second night, I'd seen the residue at the bottom of the bottle. I wasn't going to be the one to tell him that alcohol and sedatives were not a good mixture, or remind him of the fact that they didn't really work with the anti-drug serums either of us were on. I also knew he was doing what he thought he could to help, so I didn't point out the fruitlessness of his actions.

I shook my head and muttered to myself, "Don't worry about it, Duo, everything will be fine. It's not like we planned it this way."

I pulled up the log for our alarms and other surveillance equipment looking to see if they had been triggered. There wasn't a single thing out of line. I then pulled up the feed for the cameras that littered the inside and outside of our house. I began to go through each camera and each feed, watching the video play-back.

Mill closed his laptop and pushed it off of him, before stretching out onto the futon—my futon—lying on his side, eyes closed. "I'll just watch."

"Yeah, through your eyelids. Don't worry. Take a nap in your own bed."

I let my hand wander absently through my bangs noticing that my brown locks had grown longer and that the hair products we'd bought had encouraged natural curl to them now. The tendrils of hair snaked over my fingers.

"I love your hair, _Scythe_, the way the curls wrap around your fingers."

"Uh, huh," I grunted, ignoring him. I wasn't going to enter into any game play with that man. After a few minutes, Mill was asleep.

Six days into the audio replay, I heard crying, a little boy crying that he did not want to go with the bald man again because he hurt him too much. I jerked my head up from listening as I lay on the pillow and paused the recording, replaying that part of the file to make sure that was what I'd actually heard. It was the same and then Gunter's voice came over the feed.

"_Jimmy, Jimmy, what are we going to do with you? That 'bald man' is paying a lot of money for your company tonight. Perhaps someday you will find someone that will only enjoy your presence and not your services. Until then, you'll go where I command you to go, or I'll take it out of your hide myself. Is that understood?"_

It broke my heart to hear Jimmy's voice. By the date on the tape, I knew it had been too late. I knew that he'd already been harmed. I stopped the file before it could go on and lay my head on the desk in disgust.

The doorbell rang and I froze. I was not expecting anyone, and we didn't exactly know anyone here. I slid off the chair, trying not to wake Mill, and slipped on a t-shirt, only to find out that it was Mill's and too long and baggy across the chest. I answered the door anyway and stared at a blond-streaked, red-haired, green-eyed, young man, dressed too well to be the skater freak I took him for at first. His body was lean and stood several inches taller than me. He smiled as if everything was right with the world. I squinted at the bright afternoon sunlight that framed his figure.

"Can I help you?"

"Hi, Duo, I'm Trowa, remember?" He held out a hand to me. "Or are we _Scythe_ and _Tamer_ now?"

I just nodded until reality sank in. "Oh, man! Tro-baby! Come in. I mean, whoa... The change of hair just makes you look so different. Sorry. Come in."

"I have the surveillance upgrades. Still no word on when the big shindig's happening?"

"No, it's all taking much longer than Mill thought."

"Oh, I bet that's a real bummer on the free time, huh?" Trowa asked, looking around the house. "Nice place. You and Milliardo share this, I assume."

"Um, huh." I heard the questioning in his voice and noticed the interest in his eyes. "We work from home, I don't know if he mentioned that to you."

"I've heard," he replied with a dry chuckle.

"Yeah, well, I'll show you your room. When's Quatre coming?"

"You mean, _Sand_? Depends on the shuttle schedule. Couple days."

"Crappy code names, huh? Well, until then, you got a room to yourself."

"And yours?" he asked.

"I share with Mill." That didn't sound right, so I elaborated as I led the way to the office. "We share the bathroom and a closet. We needed a room to set up the monitoring, so I sleep on the futon there."

"Tight accommodations when the other two get here, or are we all supposed to be sleeping together?"

"The … who?"

His blank face questioned me a moment. "Blake Edwards and Aiden Moore."

"Oh, yeah. The other two agents. Man, I'd completely forgotten about them. Things have been very…absorbing here. Ahhhh…"

I held on to the conversation as I turned to the table nearest the door, opened the small drawer, and grabbed a business card out of it that had the web-site address that the Preventer's had set up especially for this sting and handed it to him.

"There's a list of the sites that supposedly _Wind_'s built and a few that he runs on the main page. But, you didn't get that from me." I put on my best fake smile. "If it's offensive to you, just look the other way."

"You want me to make sure someone gets this, right?" Trowa asked.

"Yep, a piece of slime called Gunter. We're doing the club rounds tonight, and I'm sure he'll want to meet you."

"Okay, I'll need a nap first. Oh, and this," Trowa held out an envelope. "A man gave me this as I walked up to the house. Looks like an invitation."

"A man just gave this to you?"

"In a black limousine. Tinted windows. No plates. The driver passed it over. Said I should give it to the 'lovely boy inside.' I take that to be you."

I ignored his smirk and ripped open the sealed envelope. "Oh," I said after deciphering the scribbled handwriting. "Alric Gunter remembers seeing me at a club downtown. How nice. He's in and out of town a lot, but he's going to be here throwing a small Valentine's Day party. Nothing too big, but not too small. How…chummy. He is interested in our coming."

I looked up and smiled. "Trowa, you've made my day. I mean, at last we're making some headway. I'll give this to Mill when he wakes up."

"I thought you'd be pleased." Trowa set a box on the table. "Ran into Yuy. He sends you his greetings."

I blinked and looked away. "It's been just a few weeks, but it seems like months." I met Trowa's eyes. "This is my last undercover job."

He nodded. "It's not my thing at all."

"So, have you ID'd the dude from the feed I sent from the house across the street?" I asked.

"Yeah. Strom Anton. He's got a petty record, nothing significant and the only time he's done has been for minor possession. He's currently on probation though, so he shouldn't be anywhere near a gun. He's not important to us as far as we see, so far."

"Except that later on, if we can use him for information, we might consider cutting him a deal," I said lightly, although, I couldn't help noticing that Trowa's eyes were veiled, concealing something. "What is it, Tro? Your instincts are usually right on."

"Bad feelings. Place doesn't look swanky enough for the owner of that limo. Sure you're watching the right place?"

"It's what _Preventer's _says," I said, emphasizing the Preventer's role in the information. "It's pretty quiet, which bugs me now that you add in the fancy-ass car. Still. there's the one boy, Jimmy. Have they ID'd him?"

Trowa went silent.

"Trowa?"

Trowa cleared his throat. "Such a sweet-looking kid, huh?"

"Listen to the pain in his voice Trowa, all of his sweet looks won't bring back his innocence." I bit my lip to keep my composure. "Tell me about the boy."

"His name is Jimmy Tulver." He withdrew a disc from his shirt pocket and handed over. "He's an only child and he's thirteen years old. It was not their typical runaway kidnapping. He was reported missing six months ago by his mother— estranged father. She thought he was on his way home from a friend's house, but he never made it. Found out from the friend's uncle that the kids had followed him into the red-light district, though he didn't know it at the time. Jimmy got scared and left alone. The others figured he'd made it back okay. Two days after the mother reported him missing she was found in their apartment, bound and shot execution style. Guess they figured out they'd taken the wrong kid, one with family who cared."

"Six months?" I shook my head.

"Take a look at the disc."

I loaded it and clicked on the file with a photo attached to it. "What's this?"

"When you go to that big Valentine's Day bash, look for any pictures or evidence on the boy in this picture and the bald man."

"If the boy shows up across the street first—I'll need a tracking device, Trowa."

"WIP." He smiled grimly. "Do you remember the little pill that was developed to be swallowed and take pictures of the inside of the body and intestines and stuff?"

"Yeah."

"Yuy's working up some identical to that, but they are transmitters. They will work up to five hundred feet. If you can get one to the boy before the party, perhaps we can see who Mr. Bald-man is."

I must have given him a hopeful look, because he met my eyes. "I think you can expect a personal visit from Yuy to deliver those. Mill's been limiting his contact with you, but since this is a personal request on your part—"

"Thanks, Tro-man. I'd like that to be a personal delivery."

He nodded and smiled. "I'll get word. Now, where's a shower?"

He was crashed out in the now-furnished bedroom before Mill got to speak to him. Having another trophy to hang on Mill's arm would ease my burden, so I was happy, but not happy that it had to be Trowa. He wasn't one to chatter on about his past, and we all knew that to have been a mercenary before he was fifteen it had to have been gritty at best. I do know, because he let it slip out after a great dinner I'd cooked and a beer, that he had had a rough few years on the bar scene, before he and Quatre became hooked up. He hinted once at a couple pickups gone bad, but no details were forthcoming. I knew he'd had sex with at least another guy other than Quatre, but the particulars…_nada_.

"Let him sleep while he can," I said to Mill. "After tonight's debut, nightmares might keep him awake."

And my premonition came true, in a way—the evening did end in a nightmare. The problem came at the clubs where we'd last seen Gunter and his pals. He was there again this time surrounded by an entourage of boys and henchmen, at least that's what they looked like. I wished I'd had a camera to collect some of those faces, and scanned for security cameras that I might hack into later. Didn't see any, but Trowa had an even better eye than I for those, so I wasn't worried. I just memorized what I could.

When one of the henchmen approached Trowa, they spoke briefly and Trowa passed on one of Mill's porn-site cards. Gunter, it seemed, was deep in conversation with a couple of the boys at his table. He accepted the card from his intermediary and looked around for Trowa, tilting of his head questioningly when Trowa nodded and smiled. I wrapped an arm around his waist and another around Mill's, hoping Gunter would get the message that Trowa was one of Mill's stable. He did. A few minutes later, a waiter brought us drinks, "from the gentleman over there," indicating Gunter's table.

"We shouldn't drink these," I warned, unnecessarily.

"We could send a sample to the labs," Trowa suggested, "if we'd thought to pack a liquid sample kit tonight."

"That would have been smart. Why hadn't I thought of that? It would mean I wouldn't have to drink this," I pointed out. "I've avoided the drug aspect so far."

"Your body has enough serum to counter most anything," Mill said. "I wouldn't worry."

"Good point." I drank the entire glass, raising the empty container Gunter's way to show him I had and to offer him my thanks.

Ten minutes later, I was outside puking my guts up. My head was pounding and my vision blurred. Mill carried me to the car and they got me home. Trowa extracted enough blood from my arm that I accused him of being a vampire.

I was a little loopy after that, I guess, and scared them. Me, too. I hate the way drugs take your control away from you. When you lose your control, others can inflict theirs over you, which I have never found to be pleasant or good in any way. It's a bad way to hide from problems, and the side effects wreak hell on a body. That's one of the reasons I stayed clear of shrinks. They think you've gotta problem and they slam you with a cocktail of drugs; that, and they make you dredge up a lotta crap about your past and your feelings that just should stay sunk at the bottom.

Anyway, so much for Preventer's anti-drug serum.

End, It's Back to Work, Chapter Six


	14. It’s Back to Work Chapter 7

**DEFYING GRAVITY**

Part Two: It's Back to Work

**Chapter Seven**

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Gundam Wing or its characters, nor do I make any monetary profit off this story.  
Warnings: 1x2x1, 3x4x3, AU, yaoi, explicit sexual language  
--Kaeru Shisho 5/11/2007 6:27 Transitioning to Heero's POV in this chapter.

* * *

This mission was doomed. I thought so from the first moment Zechs walked into the building, and everything I have heard since has only worked to substantiate my reservations. First, there was the call from Zechs. He'd been psychoanalyzing Duo and was panicking in the face of Duo's put-on lunacy. I told him to be a man and hung up. 

The next call came from Barton, who had just entered the asylum. Barton, my partner at work in the Preventer's organization, had always been a rational, thoughtful, and dependable man, if not a little too laid back, when compared to my penchant for strictness. Had he noticed Duo's split or altered persona, I asked? Yes, he told me, but, so far, it was UC mission norm. Nothing to worry about. Just his confusion with what is real and what wasn't, but since Barton swore he was pretty confused himself, I shelved the matter. Duo was fine, so why the call, I asked? Well, that began the longest soliloquy Barton has ever given, I'll bet.

"Well, Yuy, I met with Zechs and Maxwell," he began simply enough. "Maxwell wanted me to look over the monitoring equipment Zechs had setup. Damn, the crap that had been packed by the local agency dudes was Neolithic. I had to redo everything. Scanners, crap. Limited by frequencies and not one exceeding two GHz, and, they do absolutely nothing for subcarrier transmissions, because these are hidden 'under' the transmission that the scanner monitors. You ever use anything that lame?"

"Not to my knowledge," I said. He took my answer for encouragement. I should have limited myself to a disinterested grunt. Too late.

"Okay, then I found a couple carrier current detectors.When plugged into an AC line they demodulate any audio that the line is carrying, which tells you if the AC line is being used to carry sounds down the AC line. I checked the packing slip and we're being charged $1,200 for each of them. High, yes! They don't have a decent supplier or they're gouging us, which is more likely, 'cause if you use the receiving end of a simple Radio Shack baby monitor (that plugs into the AC line and sells for about $15), and then firmly knock on the walls of the suspect area, the sounds can be heard through the receiver. And, it won't matter what frequency the bug is on. You may not be able to clearly distinguish speech, but the knocking noise will come through as interference and will verify the existence of the bug and lead you right to it. I mean, I'm not letting these locals extort us for shit, so I'm ripping them out and sending them back, and billing them for my time. Screw Zechs' time."

"Sounds reasonable," I said.

Clearly, my partner was coping in his own way after discovering that he'd landed himself in a nuthouse. I let him run on and on, just like I would Duo. Everyone had their own way with coping, I guessed. I never would have though Barton to have been a complainer. He hadn't been in the past, but then maybe he just never talked to me. I'd never pretended to be a great listener before either.

"Okay, so when I found the spectrum analyzers, I nearly lost it. These things search for various frequencies in the spectrum and show spikes whenever transmitters are detected. Cool, sure, but they are extremely difficult to operate since considerable experience is required to analyze results due to the number of spikes caused by the proliferation of legitimate transmitting devices used these days. You can spend hours trying to analyze a spike that may turn out to be an operating micro-wave oven fifty feet away! Oh, and they charged us $7,000 for one and $15,000 for the other!"

Once or twice, I could recall having to tell Duo to shut up. It was during the war and I had my head on back-ass-wards. I had told him, reasonably, as always, "Two ears, two eyes, but only one mouth-- it seems a simple enough design for people. It means it is more important to listen or read than to just babble incessantly."

Duo had thought that was funny. I can see now that it was. As it was, with Barton on the line I was all ears, an image I thought that was pretty funny. In fact, I could see what I'd said to Duo was very funny, if not astute of me to point out, seeing as I was all of fifteen at the time I said that 'two ears' line. I may have chuckled thinking about the incident.

The line had gone quiet. I was expected to comment, so I grunted, "Hn," which satisfied my listener.

"Don't get me started on the rest," Barton warned me, and I wasn't going to, but he decided he had to dump on someone, and he had my ear, because, as I said, I was _all_ ears.

"Okay, one more. They sent a time domain reflectometer! No fucking shit! Undoubtedly one of the most publicized and useless pieces of 'equipment' ever designed for counter surveillance purposes. If you can believe it, this unit actually requires an initially 'clean' line. In other words, you have to first have readings on the line that you 'know' are clear of unauthorized devices. You need these readings for comparison purposes. And, the only way in the world that you could possibly know if the line was initially clean is if you were actually there looking over the shoulder of the telephone installer when the telephone was first installed! This 'wonderful' counter surveillance device was billed to us for $35,000!"

"Hn."

"Right, you get my point! Now, the non linear junction detector can be a very effective piece of equipment. It transmits microwave frequencies that are reflected by junctions of various components, which reflect back harmonics. It will actually detect transmitters that are concealed in walls even when the transmitters are inactive. Of course, it has no way of differentiating between inoperative components (that may have been placed there twenty or thirty years ago) and fully functional eavesdropping devices. And, it cannot determine whether positive readings have detected a bug or simply some electronic item such as a burglar alarm component, etc. But, the non linear junction detector can perform functions that no other piece of equipment presently can. And, if you are concerned about a non transmitting transmitter, you can lay out the $30,000 it costs and put a non linear junction detector in your inventory. However, a transmitter that isn't transmitting can't really do anybody much harm, can it? And, once it does start transmitting any of our transmitter detectors will immediately detect and pinpoint it. Sending back that piece of crap, too."

I had heard enough. I made up my mind to pay Zechs and his inmates a visit. I tucked in my ears and opened that singular mouth of mine.

"You brought your own surveillance stuff on an airplane?" I asked to move us on.

"Yeah, but I took a Winner private jet. It helps to have lovers in high places."

"Duo was in Antarctica once, does that count?" I asked, and we shared a much-needed laugh.

When he started on the new "GPS-4 Miniature Self-Contained Weatherproof Motion-Activated Magnetic-Mount Battery-Powered GPS Vehicle/Personal Logger for the car," I told him I'd hang up if he continued. Even I had a limit to my interest in techo-babble.

"I brought the infrared cameras," he said in conclusion.

"I'll bet that pleased them both."

"Yes, they were delighted."

"Been clubbing?"

"Yes. I met this filth named Gunter and gave him Zechs' business card advertising _Wind'_s porn sites. I think I'll collect a few of those cards to take home. Make a cool joke to distribute them around the agency."

We both laughed, and came up with a few corny website names of our own, like: ZechxyHotNudeTwinks-o-Rama . com. It was a good thing I got a laugh in then, because the next thing he had to say was not funny at all.

"The dude slipped Maxwell some drug in a drink, and still it got past all the anti-drug serums we've been given and made Maxwell pretty sick and… receptive. We got him out of there unharmed. I'm sending you a blood sample for testing."

"Mark it 'Attn: Chang'," I told him, although I was angered to hear Duo's life had been endangered already. "He's directing the drug connections. So, Duo's okay?"

"Yeah. Maxwell just argues with Zechs about making the next move. Zechs says wait and Maxwell wants to take action." Barton sighed. "Oil and water."

"I'm coming to check things out. If it exists, I'll bring any new serum for them to try."

"Zechs won't like your interference."

"I won't interfere."

"Okay--" Barton said, chuckling.

"But to hell with him anyway."

I left Commander Une a cryptic message about being out of town for a few days on mission business. She trusted me implicitly, rarely questioning my decisions and usually rubber-stamping my expense reports after a cursory glance. I made flight and car rental arrangements for the next plane out, and then called Chang.

"I haven't got any leads yet, but the name Gunter is not on our list of crime lords or in the hierarchy of any of the known drug cartels or one of the many syndicate movers-and-shakers," Chang said with a huff of disgust at his poor performance.

"But you'll keep at it," I said.

"Of course. I will warn the labs to gear up for the blood sample. What kind of garbage is this Gunter into that can avoid deactivation by the serums? Maxwell is so pumped up now, he couldn't have an operation. I hope he avoids getting hurt." Chang sounded edgy, annoyed, and worried.

"I will be at the house in a few hours."

"Zechs has requested you?"

"Not exactly. I won't stay long. The pill transmitters are in packaging currently. I'll pick them up on the way out."

"I wouldn't trust them to delivery either," Chang said. He was giving me his approval for the unexpected visit he knew was as much to connect with my lover as anything else.

"I'll keep you informed," I said, ending the call.

I didn't call Winner until I was already at the airport. I knew he'd been aching to join up with the others at the house, his boyfriend in particular, and I certainly could no longer blame him. That I wasn't at my desk waiting obediently for an invitation, I knew, would be certain to exasperate him. His red hair bothered him, making him more self-conscious than ever around Barton. Once his boyfriend had left, he was so disturbed by the questioning glances at the office that he'd moved out to one of the Winner estates to work, preferring to conduct his labors inconspicuously. This was a guess on my part, since he betrayed nothing to me personally, but Chang didn't disagree with my assessment.

"You wouldn't have done this during the war," Winner said, sighing long and hard when I called.

"Not likely," I agreed.

"Shows how a few years and a personal reason to protect the one you love changes a person."

"Yes," I agreed again. It was best to let Winner have his say and not argue. Arguing logic against his emotional reasoning would only drag out the conversation and end up exasperating us both.

"Duo might not like your meddling, but Mr. Peacecraft most _definitely_ won't. He will believe your being there is dangerous and impulsive. You endanger the mission if you inadvertently expose the undercover operation. You will need an inarguable justification for being there."

Ah, the diplomat at work. Winner rarely missed targeting the human-issue angle. He understood subtle manipulation better than the rest of us. I, however, saw this coming.

"I thought of that. I will bring Duo the transmitters he needs. He will understand that the devices are too sensitive and the house too deep under cover for anything but my acting as carrier. I will be circumspect and not stay long."

"I want to go, too!" he whined.

"One at a time, or we will draw attention. I will call when I know my departure time."

"I'll arrange to arrive right after you leave, no matter what orders are," he decided. "That Peacecraft man has kept me in a holding pattern long enough."

I agreed and ended that call. I would not call and warn either Duo or Zechs and take the chance that Zechs would contact Une to terminate the trip. He might call to complain to me, but he did not want me to show up on his doorstep. Instead, I called Barton back with my itinerary and to get directions to "the refuge of the damned," as he called it. After that, there was nothing more for me to do than to collect my things and head out before someone got wind of what I was doing and stopped me.

(o)

Barton let me into the house, took my overnight bag, and motioned me to follow him surreptitiously. I could hear Duo's raised voice from another room.

"Oh no," he said in a growl. "Those boys are all coming out, whether I have to do it legally **or illegally**!" Duo shouted.

Zechs' voice was even and controlled. "Fine sentiments, but we are supposed to be sellers, not buyers. And, even if we tried to buy these boys out, that still leaves others in the chute somewhere down the line. We still won't know who is paying for them or where they go from there. All we get are a few boys and no punishment for the offenders or end to the entire process."

Duo sniffed and pounded his fist into his hand. I could tell that Duo knew Zechs was right, but he didn't like knowing that. I admired his control as he switched gears out of full-throttle attack-mode to become a more reasonable tactical planner.

"I just think more could be achieved if I could just put my mind as well as my heart into the matter," Duo said.

"I won't let you just waltz into that house," Zechs said, missing the point.

"I wouldn't DO that! I'll find another way," Duo said.

He came stomping out of the back room and into the hall where he looked up and saw Barton, then me. It took him a full minute to identify who I was; at least it seemed that long before he ran down the hall and into my arms.

"Heero! You just get in? Whoa, I wasn't expecting a conjugal visit!"

We kissed for a long, long time. Zechs wasn't in sight, so I indulged. I did not lick him so much as I slobbered, leaving a trail of glistening, Pavlovian satisfaction wherever I had journeyed. He felt so good. He looked like a living, walking, talking wet dream with his loose hair, skimpy t-shirt, and ripped jeans. I did not want him out of the house looking like that. I didn't want anyone fantasizing about what they'd like to do to, or with, my boyfriend. Possessive did not adequately cover how I felt. I was suddenly jealous of Zechs' convenient proximity and my overprotective tendencies kicked in. I tightened my grip in his shoulder, unwilling to remove my arm for any reason.

"Hey," Duo said to me, squirming a little to loosen my hold. "Come take a look at the setup in the office. I'll show you what's going down across the street."

He went to work on one of the computers. For years, I knew he'd been a hacker; as one hacker to another, we were tight. Even officially, we were both renowned for our expertise. Duo was eager to talk, so I listened. I could listen to his voice forever. I don't know why I thought it ever bothered me in the past. I vowed never again tell him to shut up.

"I remember getting exposed to computers for the first time by Professor G and stumbling across a site that gave tips for getting into other computer systems. That got me started on the path to evil," he said with a grin as he typed away. "Not only did I want people's information, I wanted the inside information that most government agencies held back even from their higher-ranking agents. I wanted case files and evidence records that had been sealed for one reason or the other. I was an information hound and most of the time I knew just how to get it. I learned so much in such a short amount of time, and memorizing all of the codes seemed to have been a gift. Too bad that I'm on the good side of the law now, huh?"

I caressed his cheek and kissed him. All I wanted to do was take him to bed and make love. Nothing more. However, I had to wait out Shinigami's determined state of mind. After two hours of working non-stop, together we were finally able to get into what we believed was Gunter's home computer, setting an internal bug to monitor the activity. Any activity on Gunter's computer from this point on would be transmitted back to Duo's laptop. I think he might have continued searching into his files if I hadn't dragged his sorry butt of the chair.

"I want you. Now. Where's your bedroom?" I asked. I felt another presence enter the room.

"Well, sometimes that futon," he said, pointing to the one in the office with a blanket draped over the back.

"He shares the master bedroom, with me."

I raised my eyes to meet the steely gaze of ex-OZ lieutenant Zechs Marquise, Zechs, _Wind_, or whatever the fuck he called himself these days. I stood between Duo and that gaze.

"That is a bad idea. Duo needs his own room; Duo needs down time—"

"Maxwell needs less Mill-er time," Barton added softly from the door behind Zechs.

"I order you to leave immediately," Zechs said to me.

"I will go, but not tonight." I turned to Duo before he could become defensive. "I did come for a purpose, and it wasn't to check on you."

"Entirely," whispered Barton.

Duo nodded but said nothing, waiting to hear my explanation. I reached into my jacket pocket and withdrew a heavy, insulated bag. "These are your transmitters."

Duo's face lit up, providing me all the thanks I needed. "'Ro, you're the best. This will make getting kids out and collecting evidence so much better. Hey, Mill, can we borrow your room for awhile, to, ah, talk, ah, privately?"

"Until tomorrow," I said.

"That wouldn't be wise."

"You don't think your cover will be blown over this, so what's the problem? We are…close," I said with a little hesitation. "We would like to speak in private."

I did not want to reveal more about our relationship than Duo had already told him, if anything. I knew he wasn't comfortable being gay, no matter what he said aloud. I wasn't going to out him to Zechs, certainly. Couples working together were frowned upon. Barton and Winner knew their time working in the same building was coming to an end, and I didn't wasn't to add pressure to them either.

Zechs disagreed. He got in my face. I shoved, he pushed, I punched, and he over-compensated ducking my fist, losing his balance. I only nicked his jaw, and he hit the edge of the computer desk on his descending arc, landing hard on the coffee table in a groaning heap. Barton was instantly in the fray, pushing me backwards into Duo's arms.

"Take _Wing_ to my room, _Scythe_. I'll take care of _Wind_."

I didn't understand Barton's use of our code names, but I didn't argue or fight our withdrawal. Barton was giving us his room, and that was very, very nice of him. We sat, fingers entangled on Barton's bed, speaking softly, reassuring one another that everything was fine, when Barton entered.

"How is he?" Duo asked.

"Report?" Barton raised one eyebrow and the corners of his mouth curled up slightly. I think he was amused by the entire encounter. "Zechs' got bruised ribs that need medical care. I'll ask them to check his jaw, too… possibly a CAT scan. I'll see if I get them to throw in a transplant," Barton said, pausing for effect. "He's in the garage now, waiting for me to drive him to the hospital." He shook his head and chuckled. "You got a couple days, Yuy. Enjoy."

I did, too. Duo and I connected, really connected so that I knew he was okay.

Duo led us to Barton's room. He flipped back the spread and top sheet, got a towel from the bathroom, and started undressing me. We started kissing and I couldn't stop so it took us awhile to get each other naked. We got in bed and hugged and kissed some more. He sucked my nipples. The feeling sent jolts of lust to my groin, so I did the same to him, but he stopped me after a few seconds saying he was too close to coming for me to do that any more.

He kissed, licked, and sucked his way down my chest and stomach, and then he took me into his mouth. All of my six inches fit perfectly into his mouth, and he licked and slurped and sucked until he sent me to outer space, complete with super novas. His was longer and thicker, definitely a challenge to deep throat. I never really pulled it off right, but he never complained. What we needed after that was skin-to-skin contact for forever, but we got two hours.

Barton brought us Instant Ramen Noodle bowls for dinner.

"Zechs' is resting at the hospital. He'll be there two more days, guaranteed, after I showed them the 'no matter how much for how long' insurance package he had and informed the doctor that some thugs were out to get him. They might like to keep him for a week, but I'm sure two days is all Zechs will stand for."

"Thanks," I said.

"My pleasure," Barton said with a nod, and then said "goodnight" and left the room.

The next morning I woke up with 135 pounds of Duo Maxwell draped over me. It was terrific. I woke him up with some serious tongue kissing, which led to sex, which led to a shower. I followed Duo into the master bedroom, not remembering where my clothes were. He started getting underwear out of his drawer. Then he turned to me and said, "Fuck it. Let's stay naked."

We did for awhile, but in a moment of daring, we decided to go out that day and get matching nipple rings. He called it "mating marking." Barton promised to watch the feeds and told us to have fun, knowing I was giving Duo what he needed most to return to his job. A break.

We pulled into a little strip shopping center that had a coffee shop, among other small stores. He got coffee, great strong German coffee with a dollop of whipped cream, and I got a coke. We both had large pieces of apple dumpling pastry to go with them. When we finished our snack, Duo asked the waiter about tattoo parlors in the funniest broken German I'd ever heard. The guy understood him all right and recommended one that was part of the complex.

"What made you ask him? How did you know he'd even know?" I asked.

"When he bent over to pick up the fork he dropped," Duo told me, "I saw one on the small of his back. Right here." He showed me where on his own back. "And where there's tattoos, there's bound to be piercings, too."

"Oh."

"Have you ever thought about getting one before?" he asked me.

"Not a tattoo or a piercing. Not really seriously. I think tattoos are cool, although, they age badly."

"Yeah, and the needles, ugh," he groaned, shivering.

The shop was close. We looked around at the designs that were posted on the walls, while accessing the place. It looked very clean and sanitary, thankfully. Some of the designs were very elaborate, and very expensive.

"This is what I like," Duo said, pointing to simple Celtic, design. "If I ever get one, it's gonna be one of these."

I told him I liked the design, too. It was unadorned and very masculine, all black but with lots of open space for skin color to show through. It looked like the type that wouldn't blur with age.

"Check this out," Duo said.

He leafed through a book with photographs of the artists' work. There was another book showing piercings of various kinds. We looked through it, and found gold rings we liked that weren't too expensive.

"Shit, I'll bet that hurts like hell," he said.

I knew he meant the picture of a pierced cock. The guy had a ring at the tip, and it looked like it came out the piss slit. I winced.

"You gotta know it," I replied.

"I wonder if you can fuck with one of those things," Duo blurted out, completely entranced by the picture or the concept, or both.

"Sure you can," a voice said. An employee joined us at the counter. "I've got one, and I can fuck anything that's got a hole to shove a cock into."

He laughed, and we kind of smiled to be polite.

"You speak English," I said.

The man nodded, "Ya," and laughed some more. "I'm colony born."

"Oh yeah? I'm L2," Duo said.

"L2, sector 5."

"Sectors 12, 7, 6, here and there, you might say," Duo said with a rough laugh.

"I hear ya. Tough districts. My folks pulled out during the war. So, what can I do ya for today?"

"Does it hurt?" Duo asked. His eyes were glued to that cock-ring.

"Some guys think it does. Mine didn't. We use a local anesthetic, so you don't feel anything while we're actually doing it. You've got to lay off sex for a few days, though."

"Do a lot of guys get those," I asked.

"Not too many. I probably do one a week. Sometimes two."

"It looks really… cool," Duo said with a little hesitation, "but I don't know about . . . ."

The guy and I laughed at the misery on his face at the thought of going without sex. "You interested today?" the man asked us.

"No!" We said that simultaneously and the guy laughed more.

I asked the guy about the nipple piercings.

"Piece of cake," the guy said. "And they're really worth the effort."

"I told ya, man," Duo said, jabbing me with his elbow.

"Why? You got one," the man asked.

"No, but I've heard," Duo said, his voice small.

"We'd like one each like this," I said, determined to mark Duo and be marked.

"Cool," the man said, pleased to have a sale, and led us into his sterile back room.

(o)

Back in the car, Duo pushed up his t-shirt and started playing with his nipple ring as he drove. The skin was pink and swollen slightly. I watched him, and it started making me hard. In a few minutes, Duo's pants were tenting. I could imagine him, hot and hard, underneath, and reached out and pressed along his zipper. He usually wore boxers, just like me, but he wasn't wearing any that day, and even though I knew nobody could see inside the car, I was a little embarrassed driving down a busy street with my hand on his crotch in plain view.

He unzipped and opened the fly. He was putting on a show to get me hot, and I paid more attention. We drove the rest of the way home with him in that condition and me wide-eyed mad with lust.

As he turned into the driveway, Duo asked me in this really sexy, husky voice, "Are you as horny as I am?"

"Yes," I said with a gasp of air. I could hardly breathe. "Yeah, I think I am."

The automatic garage door closed behind us. With privacy at last, I loosened my own pants. He looked at me and grinned.

"Oh, gods, 'Ro. Let's hurry."

We dashed straight past Barton, who was eating in front of the computer and waved. Duo slammed shut Barton's bedroom door as soon as we entered, and we had each other's clothes off seconds later. We kissed passionately standing in the middle of the room, our hard-ons dueling with each other

For the next hour, we rolled around on the bed, kissing, hugging, caressing, but avoiding our still-sore nipples. Just feeling him against me sent shock waves of pleasure through my whole body, and time and again I thought how lucky I was to be where I was at that moment. Duo moved down to suck me, and he worked on me for several minutes while I lay there in ecstasy.

Four orgasms in a little more than an hour were even too much for very horny eighteen-year-olds, and we were both deflated after the last time. There was cum everywhere, and almost all of it was Duo's. He seemed to have an endless reservoir. He grinned at me and then kissed me gently on the lips.

"Let's get cleaned up. My skin's crackling."

We weren't totally callous. We took Barton out for dinner and the next day we spared some time to interact with him, eating take out and watching movies. It ended with Duo and me in bed, but neither of us were up for another sex marathon. We didn't abstain either.

The next day I had an early flight to catch, so I left Duo in bed with a quick peck-kiss and "see you later,' to avoid any awful good byes. I was gone before Zechs returned or Winner arrived, as promised. As I boarded the plane for home, I was already planning for my next visit.

Next time I wouldn't be leaving without Duo.

End, It's Back to Work, Chapter Seven


	15. It’s Back to Work Chapter 8

**DEFYING GRAVITY**

Part Two: It's Back to Work

**Chapter Eight**

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Gundam Wing or its characters, nor do I make any monetary profit off this story.  
Warnings: 1x2x1, 3x4x3, AU, yaoi, some language, drug abuse

--Kaeru Shisho 5/24/2007 14:08

For the Trowa/Quatre fans out there, this time we transition to Trowa's POV. Long chapter...

* * *

"I...ah..." 

I hesitated to confess to my best friend, but I'd already begun. It was better he heard it from me than from Maxwell later.

"I was harsh with Maxwell."

There, I confessed to my gentle-hearted, best friend.

"Oh, Trowa, he knows he brings it on himself most of the time," Quatre said, his voice forgiving me already. "Tell me what happened."

"Yuy left and Maxwell started reverting back to _Scythe _instantly. I gave him a heads-up warning that he was too immersed in his damned role. I said I hated him that way."

"Yes, but I'm sure you were a long way from meaning it," Quatre said gently. "You did the right thing, love."

"He didn't take it well." I absorbed the endearment, letting it soothe my nerves.

"No, Duo wouldn't, but maybe he'll consider your words when he calms down. Now, if we could just get some information about this new drug."

"New drug?" I spoke softly into the phone to Quatre. I always felt the need to treat him gently, not that he'd break, but that he deserved a kinder world.

Quatre answered,"They've had people working on Duo's blood sample trying to figure out what all is in it."

I narrowed my eyes reflexively. "I don't understand."

"The blood samples you sent me? Wufei has been in the labs making certain they've run every test conceivable, and then some. So far the analysis is incomplete." Quatre sighed. "We've got to find out what it is and why the anti-drug serum didn't work. If the serum knocked down the effects at all, imagine what the drug would do to some kid on the street that got hold of it. And...I want you safe."

"Oh, I already know it's pretty bad. Maxwell only had one dose that I'm aware of." My turn to sigh into the receiver. Safe. "Call us if you find out before tomorrow, or—" I looked down at my watch and realized that it was nearly three in the morning. "Well, I guess this is tomorrow," I chuckled and heard my lover's soft laugh in response. "We're supposed to be having dinner or clubbing with Gunter again soon. It would safer if we had more information on that drug before then."

I could picture him lying in bed talking to me on the phone. I had no trouble doing that. I had watched and studied him well, just as I had trained myself as a child. My survival rules: observe others, pay attention, train and hone skills. Still, I found myself unprepared for love.

(o)

It amazed me at first to find any depth of emotion in my heart. So many faces had come and gone in my misspent youth, but to have found a friend like Quatre at fifteen and have him as my lover by eighteen was unbelievable. He liked being tough as a fighter, which was hard with those refined manners of his, but he tried and became more resilient instead. My admiration for him grew.

There wasn't much time to discover love, while fighting for our lives in the war.

Before I knew I was attracted to him, I would study Quatre every chance I got. I read Quatre's emotions as they played across his face, giving strength and meaning to my own. I had to learn to do that. I had clamped down on my feelings for so long, I had to study others'.

Maxwell was good to learn from, too. His expressive face and uninhibited mannerisms reflected his volatility pretty clearly. It was Maxwell's optimism that I appreciated most, and one thing he told me. He and I had watched Quatre outmaneuver death, Sandrock flying out of a cloud of explosive detritus. Maxwell told me that "God holds certain people up by strings and he was sure Quatre was one of them."

I wasn't so sure, so I vowed to find and secure a few strings, just in case.

Yuy was more like me with a limited range of visual clues as to what he felt. I didn't see Chang as often. He seemed average, but rarely happy. Like me.

Winner had his bad times, too, but those memories have faded, leaving me with his best moments. So, I watched them all and found a range of feelings, but Quatre Winner was the bright spot of hope in every day of my life.

No one should rely on another as I found myself doing to Quatre, without a security rope, just in case them timing is off.

At first, I couldn't tell if he was interested in guys at all, he was so socially reserved, in a professional way. I knew he was interested me, but he repressed his sexuality so much, I wasn't certain if he wanted a friendship or a romance. I was afraid to approach him and scare him off, but I yearned for more than just having him in my dreams. I walked a tightrope without a net.

So, you can imagine my surprise when he was the one to ask me out first.

That first date was amazing. He took me to lunch and talked to me, asked me questions, and listened. No one had ever listened before, really cared about what I had to say. It was late, too late to go back to work after that, so he drove us to a high-rise building owned by the Winner Corporation, and took me up to this penthouse apartment that belonged to an older sister of his.

He wasn't inhibited at all, in private.

I had him for dinner. I licked every inch of his delicate, pale body and sucked him dry. His beautiful, clear skin, so refined, and his pink lips, moaning from my ministrations enthralled me that night. I became a slave to his desires. He was not inexperienced either, which was another shock. Then it occurred to me that he and Maxwell were, or had once been, lovers. It was disappointing, in a way. I liked them both. Wished them happiness. Felt fortunate to have anything Quatre had to give, even his leftovers.

Not that I wanted to share him with Maxwell, but I could.

(o)

My partner at work was Heero Yuy, and he was attracted to Maxwell. When he told me, I thought I'd heard him wrong. Therapy was doing us both some good, but I wondered if he wasn't going overboard with his newfound affections. Maxwell was so diametrically opposed to Yuy; I couldn't have dreamed up a less likely combination, and I could dream up some pretty weird stuff.

He and I shared an interest in the close friendship between Quatre and Maxwell, but in different ways. Yuy was deeply jealous of Quatre. He saw him as a rival, and Yuy wasn't like me. He wasn't one to share or accept being second to anyone. Yuy was number one in all ways. I could work in threes. I saw a potentially bad end come to our friendships over this.

Eventually I had to ask Quatre where Maxwell and he stood, and where I fit in, if only for Yuy's sake.

"Quatre?"

"Hmmm?"

"Just tell me if it's not my business…"

"Okay, what?"

"I just want to know if you and Maxwell… I know you're good friends, but is it more? Am I just a fill-in while he's away? It's okay if I am. I just want to know."

"A fill-in, for Duo? Oh, no! First of all, know one could fill Duo's shoes, or want to. Second, he and I are best of friends, but there is no romance. He doesn't date guys, to begin with, and we're not interested in one another that way, I guess, understand?"

I understood that Quatre was attracted to Maxwell, but that his feelings weren't reciprocated. That was okay. I could live with that. I was attracted to Maxwell, too. I tried to buy into the fact that Maxwell wasn't into guys, which I couldn't believe, but if that was true then I'd leave Yuy to deal with him. If Yuy had a chance with Maxwell, well, great. More power to him. Maybe Quatre would stop pining after him eventually, because as much as I might want a man like Quatre all to myself, I'd never ask that of him. How could I? He was far too good for me.

"And lastly," he went on, "you aren't a fill-in for anybody. You are a fascinating man that I just adore. You're funny and fun and flexible!"

He adored me. No one have ever said something like that to me, whether they meant it or not. I couldn't find the words to express how I felt, so I tried to put it into my kiss. I gave him everything I could, but how could I give the man who had it all something as sorry as my love?

"I'm so lucky," I said.

"You make me feel so treasured. I'm the lucky one," he said, supplying the words I yearned to say.

Treasured. Yes, I treasured him, and in return he cherished me. How I missed the man I trusted with my soul!

(o)

A voice, his voice in my ear both startled me back to our phone conversation and soothed my aching heart.

"I can do better than that," Quatre said. The delight in his voice filled the emptiness inside me. "I'm on a plane about to land in New Germany."

"Really?! I don't hear the usual background roar," I told him, attempting to keep my own voice level out of habit, but I was unable to hide my excitement completely.

"Winner Corp private jet. I couldn't stay home and chance running into someone I knew looking like I do, so I've been hiding at one of the company estates. As soon as I heard from Heero, I left. I couldn't just sit around another day waiting for Mr. Peacecraft to call me."

"I'm," I hunted for the right word, "breathless, waiting."

"I'll be there in a matter of hours, so breathe."

"Ring me. I'll meet you."

"I have a limo, unmarked, taking me to your address. Keep a light on."

"I won't leave the window," I promised.

I remained poised at the window, unmoving, waiting until I saw his beautiful face as he stepped out of the car. His glowing buoyancy washed over me, cleaning my soul, which had been soiled by this mission. No kiss was ever so sweet. I couldn't imagine why he chose me, wanted me, or loved me.

He was gorgeous, talented, sophisticated, tender, and wealthy enough to buy anything and anyone, and yet he was satisfied with me. Me. It was senseless to explain and staggering to believe. I would die when at last he woke up and turned me out, tired of me and my plainness, but at least I would have lived fully first.

That night, Maxwell brought Milliardo back from the hospital. Milliardo was resting in bed recovering from a pair of cracked ribs, a blackened eye, and bruised jaw. He was lucky Yuy pulled his punches, and Maxwell was lucky, too. Milliardo's partnership with Maxwell could have been over, the mission scrapped, and the prince could have been dead. Yuy was fortunate to be long gone by the time _his honor_ returned. Yuy's membership with the team was a laser-beam width from having been severed, and Lady Une could have had him fired. Yeah, sure...more like demoted. Who was I kidding? Barely wrist-slapped, but he would have been re-assigned certainly.

I was just happy the entire fiasco was swept under the couch with the rest of the dirt, and that it was Quatre's presence which helped. He always improved how we got along with one another. Congenial and sensitive to the comforts and concerns of others.

I loved him. Still do. Always will, long after he's moved on.

Quatre was ensconced comfortably sound asleep in our room. He and I would share it for the duration. I settled onto the office futon to stare at an unraveling braid. Maxwell leaned over and turned off the computer for the night, wondering aloud, "What if we fucked this up by being gone, er, out of circulation for so long?"

"You didn't. Nothing's happening. I monitored while you were gone. Dull and quiet."

"Ah, right. Sorry, _Tamer_. I didn't mean you didn't do your job. It's just we missed some clubbing opportunities. What if another player's getting more face out there?"

I shrugged. Who knew? Not me. "Gunter's been calling around, according to the phone taps, trying to find out what's happened to you guys. He's anxious to re-connect."

"So, the absence may have worked to our benefit?" Maxwell asked.

"Sure, like they say: absence makes the heart grow fonder," I said.

"I thought that was 'abstinence' that made the heart fonder," he joked.

"That too!" I laughed.

"Move over, I'm dead and going to crash in here."

It was the first I'd seen of Maxwell's sense of humor since I'd arrived, aside from the two days Yuy was visiting. Mostly, he stayed angry, pushy, and sometimes downright nasty. By the time I left the room, he was asleep. I hoped it would be dreamless. I didn't wonder what Maxwell dreamed about, but I doubt it led to restful slumbers.

When Milliardo awoke, I told him Quatre had arrived as he'd asked. Milliardo didn't remember ordering Quatre to come, which he didn't, but then he was pretty hopped up on pain killers and didn't care either. I could lie with ease, and without battering my conscience, unlike Maxwell.

Importantly, Zechs wasn't up to eating, especially eating out, or clubbing, so Quatre missed his big debut to the local New Germantown club scene. He took his turn monitoring the house across the street, reading through log books, and searching for leads like the rest of us. Maxwell, Quatre, and I took in some movies, shopped, and exercised, filling in the time before Gunter's Valentine's Day party.

We turned eyes everywhere we went. Without trying, we looked spectacular all well-groomed and well-dressed. This was nothing like the wartime work we'd seen, and for a few days life was marginally good again, and a lot less effort.

Word would get around about Quatre soon enough without delivering him into the dark world of sin and corruption. I wanted to shield him from that world as long as possible, and it seemed Maxwell understood. Even when he was pure _Scythe_, he seemed protective of Quatre. As angry as Maxwell could make me as _Scythe_, I had to admire his loyalty and team skills.

The two were close friends, which further enforced my feelings of inadequacy-- so said my therapist. I could have gone for Maxwell and his sexy ass; in fact, there had been numerous times when I had considered asking Maxwell out, if only to find out once and for all if he grooved on guys or not. Not much time, because he wasn't around much and when he was, he was too hot to handle. Yuy was practically indestructible, so I decided to let him get burned first. Plus, like I said, I was getting some from Quatre. I didn't want to mess that up with a tentative play for Maxwell.

Where Maxwell sizzled, Quatre steamed. More of a slow, gentle burn to his energy. This, I was told, was the makings of a lasting relationship, and better for someone with my easy-going temperament. Not that Quatre was a sop. He was brilliant, funny, and so loving-- good loving.

Quatre denied his attraction to his good friend, but it was there in his eyes. Of course, he looked at me in a special way, too, I was told. He made me the heart of his world, believe it or not, and still held close to Maxwell. Jealous? Not me. I was damned lucky Quatre gave me the time of day.

I still think so.

(o)

The whole vacation together idea had been a good one. I forget who came up with it first, Yuy or me, but it helped cement the five of our friendships. It was the last one, near the ski resort that we finally got Maxwell and Yuy to deal with their mutual attraction, and I learned why Quatre was retreating from my increasing sexual demands.

I wished that he'd confided in me earlier. Raped while imprisoned by OZ goons was a terrible trauma to keep to himself. I eagerly joined him in his therapy sessions. Together with were counseled and worked on our communication skills, mine mostly, in order to find a comfortable meeting-ground in bed.

It wasn't like I had an active sex life.

I'd been ground face down into the dirt numerous times by older boys. I'd never been hurt badly enough to hate the experience, but I didn't go looking for a fast fuck either. Later, after the war, I'd gone looking for relief in sex and found it a couple of times with pick-ups in bars.

None of those were memorable occasions.

When Quatre told me one night that he wanted me, I knew it would be a monumentally memorable occasion. I never knew when the good times would end and I'd need those memories of intimate bliss to hold onto. He topped me first and wasn't as gentle as I imagined, but he didn't hurt me. When my turn came weeks later, I had researched extensively, gone shopping, and came prepared.

He was a natural bottom, and I'm glad I was the one to show him the heat of sex.

(o)

For a few days, my lover and I re-discovered one another, wrapped ourselves in the security we found in one another, and enjoyed what we knew would be a short reprieve from the realities of what was to come. Maxwell played _Scythe_ and hung out with Milliardo, maybe it was his way of giving us that privacy, or maybe he was needing some sexual outlet himself. I didn't ask.

If Milliardo noticed Maxwell's new nipple ring, he didn't say. I thought it was cool. If Quatre had wanted to pierce anything, I would have joined him. My body was his to decorate in any manner he wanted. He wasn't sure. He'd think about it. I told him no problem and not to let it get to him. He was perfect. I think that relieved him. It didn't occur to me that he might just consider my needs and desires to be as important to him as his were to me.

Before long, though, the reality of the unreal undercover job broke through. Yeah, the bad times come as sure as the sun rises, or sets.

The evening of that bastard's Valentine's Day party arrived. I sat holding the small bag of pills in my hand staring at the little miracles concealed within each capsule. Yuy had been generous. I had asked for one transmitter and received twenty. The dude was devoted to Maxwell; possibly it would kill him if the wild child came to the bad end he was always headed toward.

I guess that was what the rest of us were for: supporting Duo Maxwell so that Heero Yuy could someday have a life.

Turning the bag over and over in my hand, I thought of how I could approach the boy if I saw him. Jimmy or the nameless boy in the picture with the bald man, whichever or both or maybe another. No matter how I played the scenarios out in my head, something just wasn't right. The party was in a few hours and I was _way_ anxious. Maybe it was my "spider sense?"

I was in the office, chillin' and waiting for my turn to shower when an alarm sounded on the laptop, signaling activity coming from Gunter's computer. The monitoring screen showed that the motion sensors had been deactivated. However, when I checked Milliardo's computer, the one that was still tied in to the house security system, the read-out displayed a continuous "all on." Every single one of the sensors was still activated.

It did not make sense. Nothing had been changed and nothing had been touched. I punched in a few codes, searching vehemently for why there was this discrepancy between the two systems. Theorizing that Maxwell might have tapped into an office computer of some type that wasn't tied to the house, I probed Gunter's computer looking for the main security files. If the system was as detailed as I thought it was, then perhaps every camera or sensor was mapped out on a chart, if I was good enough at this as Maxwell, which I seriously doubted, I might locate that information before we had to go.

Over an hour later, frustrated was the polite word to describe how I felt. I left the room to check on the status of the showers, while I thought. There had never been a system that Maxwell couldn't successfully hack into.

Well, I take that back.

Shortly after our last winter vacation, Preventer's seemed to have tightened up their protocols, bolstering their security to block Maxwell's meddlesome digging. He complained about that, as I recall. He was stuck at the new house with nothing to do but baby his bum leg, so he just made life miserable from some poor schlubb in the computer operations office. Well, I felt a little bit like Maxwell did then, I guess. Blocked, stymied, and frustrated to hell.

Quatre was out, half-dressed, and towel-drying his hair. We took a five minute break together that I was happy to extend to fifteen before he shoved me into the bathroom for my shower. We had so little time to get ready, and I had some color touch-up treatment to do to my hair.

As soon as I was done, though, in spite of the time pressure, I dressed in sweats and walked back into the office just as another alarm was triggered. Quatre caught my eye and trotted to meet me in the office. I had to drag my eyes off his sexy-looking body dressed like a businessman, except his shirt was see-through, his belt tied instead of latched, and his tie was loose and dangling on his chest.

I wanted to bind his wrists with that tie and lick his body, for starters.

The alarm buzz drilled urgently through the mush Quatre made of my brain. This time it was on Milliardo's computer, linked to activity on his dummy web-site. I logged on knowing that there could only be one culprit, Gunter. I'd passed one of Gunter's goons the "business" card listing the porn sites, while in a club at least two weeks ago.

I logged into the maintenance section of the site to monitor the activity, and, sure enough, the fool had taken the bait on every visit. Using the number that his internet connection was broadcasting, I traced it back and came to a whole new system.

"Where's that computer?" Quatre asked.

He hovered over me. I nearly gave myself a mind-wipe with each sniff of his aftershave.

"I don't know," I said. I struggled to focus. "Ah, Maxwell and I have been wondering about the computer since he first hacked into it. Looks like the security system on that computer has to be tied to an office or some another place, but not the house as we first thought. The system we're getting into now must be Gunter's home computer."

Quatre was checking his watch. "You only have about fifteen minutes to get dressed."

I quickly sent a few codes through the network. "I hope one of us will be able to finish this when we get home."

I dressed without thinking about it, having become accustomed to business-slut wear by now. Intent on finding Maxwell to tell him what I'd discovered, I made my way back to the master bedroom, where I found Milliardo standing at the window, staring out into the street. He was wearing a pale blue, button-down shirt and a pair of khaki slacks, and he didn't look happy. I walked up behind him and cleared my throat. Since the skirmish with Yuy, things haven't been too good between him and any of us.

Even though he was gone, Yuy's aura remained.

"Everything okay?" I asked.

"You know, for three days straight all you've done is sit in the office in front of those computers."

I thought he was talking to me. Maxwell slammed the door on his way out of the bathroom, eyes flashing, hair shining neatly in its braid, dressed in unforgiving black satin and wool. He looked dangerous and looking for a fight. I was grateful that his attention was wholly on Milliardo.

"We are _supposed _to be working, and since _you_ are doped up on pain medicine half the day, _someone_ has to do it."

"Yes, well, you need to learn that there is a time to work and a time to rest," Milliardo said sharply.

"Hey, you aren't my mother or my wife, so back off. I'm doing my part here. So're the others. And we have taken breaks, done stuff, only you've been missing out."

"I was speaking to _Tamer_. You, _Scythe_, are my partner, _my boy_."

"You _wish,_" he snapped and stomped off, probably to the kitchen, the one place he could be alone to think.

I forgot what brought me to Milliardo's room in the first place, so I slipped away and returned to the office. I grabbed the small bag Yuy had left us, kissed it "thank you, Yuy," and slid it into my sport coat pocket. Somehow I didn't think squishing them around in my pants pockets was going to do them any good. I managed to squeeze a couple of bugs and a few small cameras into my pockets. If I could find the right places to put them, I'd be doing okay tonight.

As carelessly as I'd prepared, Milliardo was suitably impressed when he paused at the office door. He seemed to really care about our physical health and mental well-being.

"You look...spectacular, you know."

"Thanks," I said, smiling faintly. "You feel up to going tonight?"

"I have to. I'll not be doing much. Just sitting and watching, and we won't stay long."

"Hopefully."

He smoothed my hair in back where I'd missed brushing. "You are a man of many hidden talents, Trowa Barton. Never had I expected that of you. Not from what I'd seen in the past."

I smiled at him and gave him a wink. "Well, you didn't see me at my best and 'course at the time I was only fifteen."

"So young, yes…I forget." He sighed and shook his head, his own long, platinum locks shimmering. "I should check on Quatre's progress."

"I'm ready!" Quatre cried out from the front room. "Duo says I look fine for my presentation tonight."

"Yeah, time to go," Maxwell joined in. "We've got garbage to impress. Man, _Tamer_, you look so fuckin' hot. If you weren't taken, I'd entertain some very exciting thoughts about us for later."

"Yeah?" I grinned and looked askance to be rewarded with Quatre's beaming smile.

"Taken?" Zechs asked.

"Uh, as in one of yours, too, right?" Maxwell covered his near slip-up with his quick wit.

"Of course, I see," Zechs said with a resigned sigh.

I had poured myself into a pair of black leather pants and a vest with a pencil-striped shirt, unbuttoned, and the sports coat in linen. I looked sexy and so unlike the silent, withdrawn guy I really was that it wasn't funny. I laughed anyway, mostly from released tension, and we had an impromptu punching match, which Mill-baby broke up before either of us drew blood.

"Now, boys. No damaging the merchandise. I'm selling top of the line boy ass tonight."

That pretty much stifled all our joy. I considered loading the others with as many of the spy toys as possible, but Maxwell seemed too flaky to trust with delicate tools. Quatre, I was afraid, hadn't the expertise in planting surveillance bugs and would probably be too shell-shocked to be of any use anyway. Milliardo appeared to be in a fog of his own pain. I stood holding a few bugs, wondering what to do with them.

"What are those for?" Milliardo asked. "You have the place under surveillance already."

"Just in case," I said. I was about to tell him about the alarms earlier, when Maxwell piped up.

"Did you guys review the feed from the thermal camera to see just how many people are in the house?"

"No, _I_ should have done that," Quatre moaned.

Our eyes met with matching shrugs. "Slipped my mind, too," I said.

Maxwell's back tightened with tension. "There's not really a place for any extra parking besides the small circular drive here in front, the garage area, and on the street. I haven't seen a single car pull up across the street. Tells me the party's elsewhere, and maybe the action is as well."

I nodded. He knew exactly what Maxwell meant. We shared the same suspicions that the place across the street was only one of Gunter's places of operation, and not the most important one. "Quatre and I were busy tracking down some alarms tonight."

"And?" Maxwell asked without slowing his pace to the front door.

"Milliardo's computer is tracking the house, but we're hacked into a computer in a different location. Gunter visited Milliardo's web sites and we tracked that computer to a different location."

"His private office," Maxwell determined, "in his real home."

"That's what we think," Quatre agreed. He hid his trembling hands beneath folded arms.

"Come on, all of you out the door," Milliardo said.

_Scythe_ stepped up to Quatre and grabbed his head between his two hands. "Hey, loosen up. Remember, you are _Sand_ now. You left Quatre behind at headquarters. _Sand_ can do this, he's a worldly slut, and when you leave here, when this is all over, he stays behind. Everything he's done is over and forgotten. It doesn't stick to you."

And then _Scythe_ kissed him. It was sloppy and hot. I opened the door and stepped outside. I understood what _Scythe_ was doing and appreciated it, but I couldn't watch _Sand's_ eyelids flutter close, or his moan.

It was too much like my lover's.

The others followed shortly and Milliardo locked the door behind us. We ambled across the street, keeping the pace easy on our injured leader. He shook his head, clearing his thoughts, or trying to forget what he'd just seen.

"Back to what you were saying," Milliardo said, mid-street. "Preventer's researched the place thoroughly beforehand. And we know he's holding at least the one boy there."

Maxwell marched up to the door and turned around facing us, hands on his hips. He looked very perturbed as he said, "Yeah, well then, why do I suddenly feel like we're the only ones here?"

Quatre's eyebrows knitted into a frown. "I think you are right."

Milliardo shrugged and rang the doorbell. A few moments later, the man we had identified some time ago as Strom answered the door.

"Come in. Glad you could make it."

We entered the house and to say that it was not what I expected was putting it mildly. I had expected this lavish décor and expensive furnishings. That was far from what I was seeing.

"The little bit of artwork on the walls is all prints, no originals," Quatre whispered to me.

I was glad to know I wasn't the only one unimpressed with the setup. _Scythe, Wind_, _Sand_, and I,_ Tamer_, followed Strom into the den area, where he offered us something to drink from the built-in bar. Quatre and I refused, and Mill and Duo accepted.

I looked over at Mill. "Drinking alcohol is not going to go with your medication. I don't want to go through another hospital stay, _Wind,_ sir."

Mill opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted as another man entered the room from a side door. Duo looked at his glass, reconsidered, and set it down untouched.

"No, we mustn't be responsible for anything untoward happening to our guests. Strom, serve the gentleman and his boys sodas for now."

It was Alric Gunter. He had come in the garage entrance instead of the front door. I could do nothing but stare as he strode into the room. He had this air of confidence in him that night at the club and he still had it. He was dressed in navy slacks and a long-sleeved sky-blue dress shirt with white cuffed sleeves and a white collar. He smiled and stared at me, holding my eyes for an instant. It almost seemed as we were having a battle of wills, to see who would look away first. I wasn't good at playing this game though.

I could guarantee I'd be the first to cut my eyes and look away.

He wet his lips with his tongue. It seemed so deliberate, and it was just what I had done when I locked eyes with him at the club that night. His black hair was short but stylishly cut and his gray eyes were more prominent next to his naturally tanned skin. The one thing I noticed was that he was shorter than I thought he was. He stood about five-foot ten, with an average build. Overall, he was very good-looking.

Too bad, I thought to myself, that he was scum of the earth.

And then, his gaze moved on and he was looking at Quatre for the first time and Milliardo, but his attention there was brief. His eyes shifted, landed, and remained on Maxwell, even as he greeted Milliardo.

"Ah, at last we formally meet, I am Alric Gunter. Please call me Alric."

"I am _Wind_, professionally." His arm swept back to include the three of us. "I've brought three of my finest, _Scythe, Tamer, _and _Sand_."

Gunter's eyes roved over the other occupants of the room, examining each of us, but, again, lingering hungrily on Maxwell. "I saw you at a club a couple of months ago and have thought about you ever since. Imagine my surprise to find that you had moved in right across the street."

Gunter met Milliardo's steely gaze. Milliardo, I could tell, was in pain. He stepped protectively closer to Maxwell, in spite of his injured state. He seemed alarmed when Gunter moved yet closer to him.

"I assume _Scythe_ is your…favorite?"

"He was my first. The others look up to him, but they all have leadership capabilities."

Maxwell stepped around in front of Milliardo, helping him to a chair in what I thought was an uncharacteristically thoughtful gesture. "I owe _Wind_ my life, and my love."

Alric's voice chilled the room. "Being in love, though, surely does not limit your fun."

The look that flashed through Milliardo's eyes at that moment will mark my memory forever; even Yuy's glare couldn't have cut deeper. He a razor-blade smile slit his face that did not reach his eyes, and said, "_Scythe_ is allowed to have whatever fun I feel that he needs."

Gunter's smile returned. He closed the distance between himself and Maxwell, and embraced him tightly. Maxwell forced himself to embrace him back with gritted teeth. When a few seconds after that he kissed Maxwell's cheek, I swore silently to myself that if he touched me like that, a skin peel would be in order, and if it had been Quatre trapped in the bastard's embrace, I would have hacked off the man's arms.

I liked the bloody image and thought _Scythe_ wasn't so bad a name for me either.

My heart was pounding in my chest and I wanted nothing more than to wrap my arms around Maxwell and Quatre and tell them they had nothing to worry about, and then get the hell out of that house and on a shuttle to L3. Instead, I felt Alric's hand at the small of my back, urging me towards the couch. I sat on the other end once he sat down, and tried to put as much space between us as possible. He beckoned Quatre to sit on his other side. To say that I was uncomfortable at this point was a huge understatement. I couldn't believe that he was coming on to us so blatantly in front of Milliardo. Alric shifted on the couch and played with the buttons on his shirt.

"I am sorry for the delay. I hope I haven't kept you waiting."

Milliardo shook his head. "No, we haven't been here long."

Alric smiled. "I admit to being deceitful in having you meet me here instead of coming straight to the party. Like I said, I have thought about you quite a lot for the past couple of weeks."

I just nodded and tried to find an interesting spot on the wall directly behind him. This guy was just disgusting the hell out of me and I wanted out. No one ever said anything about this guy being attracted to us sexually. I thought he would see us as commodities, like the art and drugs he was into, and concentrate on Milliardo's conversation. This was one thing I couldn't handle, and it was probably the one thing that could break this case apart.

I had a bad feeling that Alric had already made some big, bold plans involving us, Maxwell in particular, and I was going to love disappointing him.

"…And you brought these lovely bitches," Gunter was saying to Milliardo.

Maxwell appeared inattentive. I just scratched my head and looked around as Milliardo and Gunter conversed. Quatre and I shared knowing, commiserating looks.

"We'll head over to the party in a few minutes," Gunter said.

I turned to look at him. "That explains why there's no one else here. The party is somewhere else?"

Gunter smiled. "Smart boy. Correct. This place isn't nearly large enough. I don't live here full-time, just for some…particular business. The party you are going to tonight is where I spend most of my time."

Ah, the confirmation. My eyes met Maxwell's at the same time, thinking: "Shit! We _are_ watching the wrong fucking house."

That certainly explained how for the past two weeks nothing had been going on. I looked down at my watch and it was seven forty-five. Maxwell had gotten cameras on the house and tracking devices on the cars. There are a few bugs outside, but with a little diversion, we could plant one under the lamp in the living room and a camera in there as well. Maxwell smiled fractionally.

He and I understood one another.

Maxwell started to wander around and Gunter tried to pull him onto his lap. "I wanted to meet with you before we left. I hope that's okay?"

Maxwell forced a smile and tried to sound excited. "I've wanted to meet you for quite a while, too. But…ah… I need to piss."

Gunter released his hand with a sigh. "Down the hall past the den—that's the room with desk and computer."

Maxwell rolled his eyes and sauntered out. I stood also and took a turn about the living room looking at the prints on the walls and giving Gunter something to look at and not notice how long Maxwell's trip to the bathroom was taking. The pictures looked like something you could go down to Wal-Mart and purchase for ten dollars. Both Quatre and Milliardo engaged the man in conversation, Quatre speaking in a highly animated style sure to attract the pervert's attention.

I had studied the living area and made up my mind on where to place the camera. As soon as I was out of Gunter's immediate sight, I took out a bug and placed it under a lamp. It would allow not only a perfect view of the room, but also a perfect view of anyone coming into the room.

I needed to place what I had left, and began roaming to the hall hoping the next room would be the office where Alric took most of his calls. I peeked in as Maxwell opened a drawer and crawled under the desk, placing bugs firmly into a hollow space, and making sure that the drawer didn't touch the bug when it was closed. We traded smiles and I walked back into the living room. I heard Mill clear his throat and I began making my way back to where they were talking.

Milliardo looked at me and smiled. "We were about to come find you."

I shrugged. "I was just wandering. You know I have a hard time sitting still, _Wind_."

Milliardo raised an eyebrow at my bald-faced lie. I could see myself as a couch potato with no problem. What was the truth, however, was that being in Gunter's house made me want to take up running— and leave, fast.

I studied the way the house was laid out and figured that the bedroom that Jimmy was kept in should be at the very end of the hall on the left. I pushed down the urge to ask for the bathroom, after all, we'd only been here fifteen minutes and one urgent call was enough.

Maxwell hadn't returned, and Quatre seemed traumatized on the couch, requiring me to hold Gunter's attention, something very much counter to my disposition. I took Milliardo by the hand and perched on the stuffed arm of his chair. I wrapped my other arm around his shoulders, and he surprised me by leaning against me.

"How are you feeling?" I asked Milliardo.

He shrugged and explained the purpose of my question to Gunter. "I sustained a few injuries, as I told you over the phone. My boys are very concerned that I not overdo my activities."

Gunter sat across from us on the large, overstuffed couch, fondling Quatre's knee, and grinned.

"How lovely. How long have the four of you been together?"

Milliardo patted my leg. "Just a little over a year, which is a complete training cycle for boys of this quality."

I heard a car pulling up around the circular drive. Our time was nearly up. I saw Maxwell as he entered the room, and stood to meet him with a warm embrace. In his ear I whispered, "Play it cool. I'm going to have to sneak back in later to get a pill to Jimmy. Are you okay?"

Maxwell nodded, taking a deep breath. "I'm going to have to get a few bugs and cameras from the house. I'll just have to excuse myself in a moment to get _Wind _some pain pills. Does the fuckhead know that _Wind_ was hurt?"

I shrugged. "He knows about it, but not the particulars. I'll get you out."

And hopefully Gunter would buy Maxwell's excuse. I sat down and tried to make myself comfortable on the couch, while trying to draw Gunter away from Quatre. Gunter leaned over, placing a hand on my thigh and I stared at it. I felt like I was twelve years old again and cold chills rushed through my body.

Alric squeezed and laughed. "Let's go then, shall we? You can all ride with me and if you want to leave, my driver can arrange something."

"I'm ready, I guess," Maxwell said. He then looked to me with a sympathetic look and then looked to Milliardo.

Gunter stood, grabbed Maxwell's shoulders, and boldly placed a kiss on his lips. "I'm ready."

There was nothing I wanted more than to be running out of there. I stared at Milliardo. I could tell that he was tired.

"We shouldn't stay any longer than necessary tonight. You look awful," I told him.

Gunter asked, "Are you in a great deal of pain, _Wind_?"

"Localized, but intense at times. Should have left all the furniture moving to the boys. I have medication--"

"But did you bring it with you?" I asked.

Maxwell took his cue and ran with it. "I'll bet you forgot to bring your pain pills!"

End, It's Back to Work, Chapter Eight


	16. It’s Back to Work Chapter 9

**DEFYING GRAVITY**

Part Two: It's Back to Work

**Chapter Nine**

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Gundam Wing or its characters, nor do I make any monetary profit off this story.  
Warnings: 1x2x1, 3x4x3, AU, yaoi, some language, sexual situations

--Kaeru Shisho 5/24/2007 14:09 Back to Duo's POV in this chapter.

* * *

I needed to go back to the house and get the rest of the bugging devices I'd left behind. I moved away from one of Gunter's hands, only to see it latch onto Trowa's thigh. Quatre's mouth opened, and then closed, his face mirroring the emotions he wisely kept to himself.

The fuckncreep kissed me, me! My lips burned. I wanted to rip them off. I flinched far enough to bump Mill. I noticed him wince and edge away, protecting his bound ribs from my shoulder.

Fuckncreep Gunter asked, "Are you in a great deal of pain, _Wind_?"

"Localized, but intense at times. Should have left all the furniture moving to the boys. I have medication--"

"But did you bring it with you?" Trowa asked, giving me my prompt.

I excused myself to run back to the house. "Bet you forgot your pills. I'll only be a minute!"

Once home, I couldn't rinse my mouth with mouthwash fast enough, spitting the taste of Gunter down the drain. I stumbled out of the bathroom to the office, where I grabbed a number of bugs and cameras. Alric was doing his best to touch me when he could, already. I couldn't get him out of my mind as I grabbed a plastic bag and put the equipment in it. I taped it to my calf inside my boot and put my pant leg back down, cringing at the thought that he might discover it while roaming over my body.

The phone rang. "He has it pretty bad for you. He's not going to let you go tonight without something. You need to come up with a way to get out, or he'll have you, whether you want him or not."

I laughed. "Trowa, no one will have me unless I will it."

"He will find a way."

"He will _try_."

"Don't drink anything at the party, nothing at all." Trowa paused, lowering his voice. "If he uses a drug similar to what he had at the club again, you won't have a care in the world about who touches you."

"We got the results from that stuff back and no one told me? I'm pretty immune to most crap anyway."

"Milliardo has had a lot on his mind, so I'm telling you now. You didn't swallow much and it nearly knocked you out. It's new. They're working on a serum still. I should go back to the others. They are gathering outside the car, waiting for you."

"Fine. I'll figure out a Get-Out-of-Jail card. Thanks for the warning Tro-man."

I hung up the phone and called Heero. The phone rang for the sixth time, and as I almost hung it up, he answered. "What?"

"Heero, love, it's me Duo. Listen, I don't have time for a bunch of details so just listen. We have made contact with Gunter and are about to head to the party. He's marked me as some sort of sexual target and I need an out. Call my cell phone a few times tonight, the last time make it urgent. Okay?"

"Yes. What about Zechs? What's he doing?"

"He doesn't seem to care. This Gunter creep's practically jumping me right in front of him. _Tamer_ called to warn me that the guy means business. I, ah, got to go back before they get suspicious. Damn, that reminds me. I have to go, but I just came to get _Wind_ some pills. I'm begging you—"

Heero was quiet for a moment. "He must be some kind of guy for you to be begging me to get you out of there. Don't go back."

"I wish. Ya know I gotta. It'll be okay; just call."

"Call me later tonight or in the morning. Let me know how it turns out."

"Sure, love. I'll call you later."

"Thank you."

I hung up the phone and ran to the kitchen, grabbing the bottle of pain pills for Mill. I put a few Tylenol in there as well and headed out the door. Alric, Trowa, Quatre, and Mill were waiting right out front next to the black limousine. I walked straight over to Mill and handed him the pills.

"I thought they were in the bedroom, and after looking everywhere, I found them on the kitchen counter. Do you need one now?"

He shook his head. "In a little while. Thank you, _Scythe_."

I got into the back seat and slid across, ending up too close to Alric for comfort. Mill got into the front passenger seat, Trowa fell in on the other side of me, and Quatre sat on his lap and slid his hand into mine. I laced my fingers tightly with Quatre's as the driver made his way out of the driveway. We had gone about three or four miles when Alric's arm went behind me across the back of the seat. He leaned over and whispered in my ear.

"The things I want with you are endless."

His breath was hot against my neck and I swore it had to be the voice of hell itself. I swallowed hard and clenched Quatre's hand tighter, but I could not meet Alric's eyes. His hand suddenly found my thigh and his lips pressed against my neck. I sat frozen in fear as his hand found my package and he began to lick my neck. I whimpered and he must have taken it as encouragement because he moved up and nipped my ear.

"Don't say 'no', just think about it. The offer's at least good tonight."

I nodded and he pulled his hand back to himself and in a few minutes, we were pulling through a large gated entrance. There were large letter 'G's' on the two gates and the drive was paved with cobblestones. We pulled into a circular drive to what I would call a mansion. It was huge with six white columns lining the front façade. If asked, I would have had to say that the house was breathtaking, no matter who owned it. The driveway was packed with cars. People, all men to be exact, mostly milled about the lawn close to a large fountain.

The driver stopped and Alric got out. He ducked down in the open car door and smiled. "I'll catch up with you later this evening. Have a good time and if you need anything, just ask."

He closed the door, turned, and made his way to the steps of the house. I swear he took them two at a time as if he were overjoyed. I felt Q-man's hand trembling in mine and looked over at him.

"Get out _Sand._ I need out of this car."

Trowa lifted Quatre out then followed before running around to Mill's side and opening his door dutifully. He leaned down and took Mill's hand, supporting him as he rose slowly, trying not to bend. Mill let Trowa help him out, but he reached out to grasp my hand. Quatre waited for me, his eyes worried.

"Oh, _Scythe,_" he whispered sympathetically.

I shook my head and locked onto Mill's free arm. "Come on _Wind_, we can't do this here. Let's go for a walk."

I looked at Trowa. "Why don't you guys walk us around while we work through this. Act like you're excited by just how grand this fucking place is."

Trowa walked beside me, putting himself between me and Quatre a moment. "I told you he would, _Scythe_."

"And I have an out," I replied. "An associate will call a few times tonight and the last call will need to be urgent."

I cast him grin as Quatre mouthed, "Heero."

I nodded, adding, "Hey, I couldn't just back out of this now." I turned to Mill. "Are you feeling up to this?"

He shook his head and stared straight ahead. "It was bad enough that he was coming on to you at the house, but this, this is hard to deal with."

"_Tamer _here called me when I was getting the pills, _Wind._ He warned me that Gunter wouldn't let me leave here tonight without something happening, and he told me about the drugs he might slam me with. The ones the serum doesn't cover."

"Thank you, _Tamer_," Mill said. He wrapped his arms around my waist, bending over me in a manner I knew must be killing his ribs. He nuzzled my hair and whispered into my ear. "I don't know how I forgot to tell you about the drug report. Hospital visit or no, I should have remembered what _Tamer _reported to me. Listen, _Scythe_. I don't want you ruined by this." He kissed me lightly. "Go back. I'll call you a cab. Make an excuse. There's other ways to accomplish..."

"No way, man! I know I can do this. There's stuff we have to do and _Sand_ just can't do the espionage as good as me and there's too much for _Tamer_ to do by himself.

"You have to be more dominant than he is," Quatre said, his voice hard.

"What do you mean?" Mill asked.

Trowa supplied some terminology and back up. "_Scythe_ must be the top, and keep it that way. He'll either accept it or it'll scare him away."

Milliardo shook his head. "I still don't follow."

Quatre chuckled, but it was more from nerves than anything else. "You are so straight sometimes."

Trowa clarified again. "To top is to be the dominant, to bottom is to be the submissive; a strict top will not let you fuck him, but a bottom will."

Mill stared at him, trying to make sense of what we were telling him. Simply because he was the temporary leader of a ring supplying mostly boy whores to a madman building a resurrectionist army, didn't mean that he knew all of this shit, I guessed. I mean, if it weren't Heero and Trowa's "favorite" web sites, I wouldn't have known the lingo describing the behavior I'd learned vaguely to recognize on the streets. Prince Peacecraft wouldn't have known for sure.

Heero and I weren't like that in our relationship. We didn't worry about who was a top or bottom, 'course we weren't fucking each other either. We made love just the same; shouldn't that be all that mattered?

Trowa snapped Mill out of his thoughts with a kiss. "Don't look so confused, _Wind._"

Mill pulled away from him, and looked into my eyes for a moment. "No-"

"No is right," I interrupted him again. "No matter how much I hate this, this is what I think. I think I should get a little more aggressive. You know I've got it in me. Hell, I've experienced it. Get pissed, get rough and come on to him ten fold, but never back down."

"Are you telling me you're going to fuck him?" Mill said in a growl. "The thought of that alone is revolting, just as much as the act itself."

"No," I said shaking my head. "But getting him low enough to give me a blow-job couldn't hurt. Now, I need you all to get close and kiss me so I can hand over a couple transmitters and cameras to _Tamer_."

We took turns trading passionate kisses out on the driveway.

"I think we're being watched," Quatre said, his voice a little waivery.

"That's the idea," Mill said, then deepened the kiss he and I had been sharing.

The mansion was all I'd come to expect from a perverted, drug abusing, art dealer on entering Gunter's home: lavish furniture, expensive paintings, marble floors, and, looking up as we entered the front door, hung a huge chandelier. Around it, the ceiling was covered in some sort of scene that looked like naked babies with wings. On studying it more closely, some of the things the cherubs were doing with each other was quite obscene. I quickly looked away and began to take in the rest of the interior of the house. The imposing staircase was hard to miss as we walked through the entry and came to a formal ballroom. Off to the side of the ballroom was a formal dining room that I guessed could seat the New Germany Parliament.

I smiled at Mill as we kept walking through the house trying to find an area that didn't have as many people. We soon entered into a library, and, from what I could tell, it seemed to be well used. The leather of the couches looked worn as well as the office chair at the desk. The few people that had been talking near the window soon left, and Mill and I were alone.

"I hate to ask, but I need you to stand at the door."

Mill raised his eyebrow at me. "And why is that?"

"Because I was afraid Gunter would touch me and find the cameras, so I hid them in my boot, which is hard to get at and look cool."

Mill started to laugh and I glared at him.

"Hurry up then," he said stifling his laughter.

I raised my pant leg enough to grab a few bugs out of the bag and two cameras. I placed one under a shelf in a large bookcase that covered one complete side of the room. Looking around, there wasn't really a good place for the camera. It was small, and not something most people would recognize right off the bat, but there just wasn't any place to put it. If I put it over the doorframe, a maid could dislodge it when she dusted.

"Damn it," I cursed and then I noticed the light switch near Mill. "Close the door _Wind_."

"What?"

"Just do it," I bit off, my nerves raw already.

I walked up beside him taking out my knife and unscrewing the faceplate as he shut the door. I slipped the camera in and fastened it in the hole for the screw. The screws were black, just as the camera and on stepping back to look at it, I realized that you would have to really be looking for it to know it was there. I heard footsteps on the hardwood floor outside of the door and stepped up to Mill, kissing him and shoving my hand in his pocket. I dropped the plastic bag in the umbrella stand just as the door opened.

"Hiding already?" Gunter smiled.

I drew back from Mill and forced myself to meet Gunter's eyes. "It's just… been a while."

Gunter's eyes lit up and he looked to Mill as if taking a second glance. "I noticed the four of you in the driveway. It was quite a show. Very affectionate boys you have, _Wind_."

"Indeed, they are," Mill said meaningfully, "devoted."

Gunter moved to the door, motioning us to follow. Mill's hand slid into mine as we trailed Gunter out and down the hall. In his palm was a plastic package, a condom. Gunter stopped at a door, opening it wide so I could see that it was an office with a large, comfortable looking couch.

"That's my skill—finding talent," Mill said, stopping, too. "Well, why don't the two of you get to know each other," he said quietly. "Excuse me. I need to find a bathroom."

I looked down at the cherry-flavored condom and realized that Mill had been thinking about this encounter with Gunter on a much deeper level than I had. Mill squeezed my other hand and met my near-to-panicking eyes. I was silently pleading with him not to leave me there alone. I didn't think that I could do this now, but Mill wrenched his hand away and strode past the open door, with Gunter barely stepping aside to let him pass.

Gunter beckoned me in, closed the door behind me, and latched it with a quiet snick. "I guess that means you have his permission."

"I don't need anyone's permission," I said coldly.

"Not the typical boy-toy pick-up line," he said as he stepped a few feet closer to me and looked me over.

I gathered enough courage to stand there and let him do it. My body was literally shaking inside and I just wanted it to stop and for Gunter to just disappear.

"You are quite a piece of work," he said appreciatively.

"I could say the same for you."

And I meant that. He was some kind of piece of work to do the kind of things that he did. But, I then saw the way his eyes lit up at my words. He was so excited he could barely contain himself. I watched the way his nostrils flared and I didn't have to even look down to tell that he was aroused. His body language was speaking volumes even if his voice wasn't.

His breathing accelerated. I knew that he was aching to touch me. Knowing that it would have to be him that initiated touch in this game; I put my hands behind my back, clasped my wrist in one hand, and walked casually over towards the window, turning from him a little.

"A very nice place you have here. I have to admit there's a big difference between this house and the other one."

Confidence seemed to me making an appearance for me and I noticed that Gunter seemed to be faltering a bit. I remembered my own gutsy words so very clearly about not backing down.

I stared at him and asked, "Why is it that you have set your sights on me?"

"I know what I want and I go for it."

I turned and gave him a contemptuous smile. "So you think you want me?" I chuckled. "What makes you think I'd want you in return, Gunter?"

I was almost beginning to get comfortable in this game. All I had to do was pretend to be better than him, and at this point it wasn't that difficult. I shook my head and turned away from him again, wandering around the very spacious library, moving away from him. I stopped to admire a marble chess set, set up on a side table and felt Gunter's presence beside me. I reached down and fingered the king piece, putting it down a few moments later when his hand reached out and touched mine. He had just lost our little game and as I looked up into his eyes, he averted his and in that moment I knew I had him.

"You were so different at the house and in the car, I didn't realize," he said quietly.

I looked up at him and met him in the eyes. "I don't normally flaunt these things in front of _Wind'_s other…boys. I have a little more self-control than that."

"Meaning I don't?" he asked as he pulled his hand away from mine.

I shrugged. "Do you always just attack your partners on the first meeting?"

He looked at me and smiled. "It took everything I had in me not to attack you that night at the club."

His hand rested on my hip and began inching its way forward. Now I was back to the uncomfortable part. I gritted my teeth and took his hand, pressing it to my crotch.

"I'm afraid you'll have to work for what you want."

I wasn't hard and had no idea of how I was going to get that way if I had to. Gunter stepped around in front of me. I could see him struggling with his decision to let me be the dominating presence in the room. I thought back to all of those classes that I'd taught at Preventer's on body language and interpreting it. I may not have known anything about tops and bottoms and shit like that back then, but I knew how to play people. I knew exactly what to do to make someone submit to me in a matter of seconds. Of course, none of it ever had to do with sex. I was just hoping it all still applied.

"Are you going to put forth the effort? If not, I've got better things to be doing than to stand here with an indecisive player."

Gunter bit the inside of his lip nervously. He finally nodded and I put my hand on his shoulder, pushing him towards the floor.

"Then you should get busy. After all, this is your party, I'd hate for you to miss the whole thing."

I put my fingers under his chin, tilting his face to look at me.

"You are very quiet. Second thoughts?"

He stared at me a few moments and shook his head. "I never anticipated this. I don't usually let it go this way."

I'll bet not, I thought. I smiled. "It's my way or the highway, Gunter. You may have money and feel yourself higher up on the food chain, but know this: some of the animals on those lower links are just as vicious as the ones higher up- given the opportunity. Once we dance, we'll dance my way. There is no changing the song right in the middle. Sure that's what you want?"

I clamped my mouth shut. I was nervous enough to be rambling. _Shit. How many idiotic things was I saying here?_

His nostrils were flaring like crazy, his breathing was getting quicker by the second, and his carotid was nearly jumping out of his neck. He leaned forward and buried his face into my crotch. I pushed his head away and forced him to look at me again.

"Say it."

"Yes!" he exclaimed, trying to keep his voice down. "I fucking want it."

I let go of him and he was soon fumbling at the button to my jeans. I forced myself to hold that composure that I'd been holding so well. When his hand touched against my boxers, I wanted to run. I thought back to my conversation with Milliardo and Trowa. If I ran out now, I'd be losing at the game that I'd started. Fuck! I slid my hands in to my jeans and exposed myself to him, unfortunately I still wasn't hard. He looked up at me questioningly.

"You're huge, but you're not even hard."

"Make me want you," I growled. "Is that so hard for you to do?"

He touched me hesitantly and I handed him the condom that Mill had slipped me.

"Hope you like cherry."

"What's this for?"

"I don't have a clue as to where you've been and I don't need a permanent reminder of tonight. So wrap it up or get the fuck out."

I watched his shaking hands unwrap the condom. He unrolled it over my almost limp penis, and it still fit rather snugly. I moved over to the couch and sat back on it. He moved over and crawled up beside me, taking me in his hands and beginning to kiss along my neck. I could feel his frustration after a few minutes that I wasn't getting any harder, so I thought about Heero. Heero in the shower, his body wet and slick with soap. I thought about how much I wanted it to be him touching me and stroking me. I was hard in a matter of seconds and when Gunter noticed it, he moved to go down on me. I stopped him and shook my head. I forced myself yet again to touch him, but this time I cupped his crotch and gave a firm squeeze. He was hard as a rock.

"Open."

Gunter opened his slacks and exposed himself to me and I stared at him for a few moments, trying to wish myself away. He wrapped his hand around his own erection, but I pushed it away, replacing it with mine. As he shuddered and closed his eyes, I pulled him down towards me. I held onto his hardness as he moved against my hand and began to suck me. I had already begun to lose my erection with Gunter touching me or me touching him. I didn't know at this point which part was worse. I conjured up Heero's image again and pictured Heero's mouth sliding up and down. Alric's hips began pumping quicker against my hand and I released my grip on him.

"Come before I do and I'll feed it to you."

It may or may not have been the right thing to say and it may have been too late. He began to suck me harder as his mouth tightened around me. I thrust my hips and he moaned over and over again. I wrapped my hand around him again and I could tell he was trying to hold back and my erection kept faltering as soon as Heero's image left my mind. I felt him grasp my balls and tug as he deep-throated me. I finally just let the sensation take over. I could tell that he'd been truthful about not having things go this way. For a man his age, he seemed inexperienced, or out of practice. I just wanted him to hurry up and finish.

I thought once again of the shower and it was Heero's body I saw. He had been slick and naked as he had braced himself against me. I could feel his muscles tighten around me clinging, caught up in nothing but lust. It was as if I could feel it all over again. I thrust harder and a cry tore out of my lungs as I finally came, realizing that it was now finished with Gunter and that his seed was in my hand.

He reached behind the couch and grabbed a handful of tissues. He put some in my hand and smiled a he said, "We were pretty much even, timing wise."

I just sighed and nodded as I wiped his disgusting mess from my hand. He removed the condom and swept his tongue over me before I had a chance to stop him. He moaned and sat up, wrapping the used condom in his tissues. He smiled. I nearly puked wondering what germs he just shared with me.

"Maybe one day you'll let me do it the natural way," he purred.

"When I'm ready to let you, you'll know about it," I said smugly.

He slid over on the couch and turned my face towards him, and whispered, "Kiss me at least."

I just stared at him. "What for?"

He licked his lips. "Come on, _Scythe_, I like you."

"I think we've established that." I gave him another condescending smile. "And I guess I like you enough to come for you. But, why don't we save the romance for later."

I got up from the couch and tucked myself in, buttoning my pants. Gunter stood and walked over to me.

"When can I see you again?" he asked quietly.

"I live right across the street from you. I don't think it's that big of a big deal."

He shook his head. "I don't live there. I mean, I stay there a few days a month, but I live here."

I wanted him to keep talking. I raised my hand up and ran my fingers through his hair. "Why?" I whispered and moved closer to him.

"Many reasons. But for one, the taxes on this house would kill me, so it belongs to the company," he said, closing his eyes, his breath catching.

Bullshit, I thought. That lie might work on someone else, but certainly not me. I studied his body language and knew he'd give more. I bent my head closer to him as if I was about to kiss him, and asked in a silky voice, "What is it that you do?"

"Jade Pharmaceuticals," he whispered. His hands moved to my hips and he moved closer to me. "I own it."

"Umm, I've got me a high-class pusher," I said, giggling, and before he could think about it, I moved up and kissed his forehead.

His body sank against mine and he nodded. "You could say that."

He started to say something else but I pressed a finger to his lips as my cell phone rang out. I knew it had to be Heero. I pressed the earpiece to my head so his voice couldn't be overheard. "What?"

"Here's your call for help, but there's something else you need to know."

I interrupted him. "Can you give me five minutes?"

I hung up the phone and felt bad instantly. After all, I did ask him to call and rescue me. I put the phone aside on the desk and leaned my ass against it, pulling Gunter to stand between my outstretched legs.

"You were saying?"

Gunter smiled. "It wasn't important." He nuzzled his head against my chest. "I don't know what just happened, but I guess it's all right. I've never been submissive to anyone before."

I let _Scythe's_ cocky, self-assured attitude try to shine out as I said, lying easily and hating _Scythe_ for it, too, "Well then, you did just fine."

I knew that I wouldn't get any more information out of him at this point; the phone call had destroyed that after-sex bond he apparently thought he had with me. My cell phone rang again and I groaned. Gunter stepped away and began to tuck his shirt in and fix his pants.

"Yesss? I said five minutes," I hissed as I answered the phone.

"Don't hang up on me Duo," Heero said. "I assume you can't really talk, but something has happened."

End, It's Back to Work, Chapter Nine


	17. It’s Back to Work Chapter 10

**DEFYING GRAVITY**

Part Two: It's Back to Work

**Chapter Ten**

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Gundam Wing or its characters, nor do I make any monetary profit off this story. Warnings: 1x2x1, 3x4x3, AU, yaoi, some language

--Kaeru Shisho 5/24/2007 14:09 We are sticking with Duo's POV in this chapter, too.

* * *

"What is it? Did someone break a nail while I was away from the apartment?" I said into my cell phone. 

My UC identity, by way of the Preventer's, put me as a _Wind_'s head boy toy in charge of a harem of others. Gunter was listening to my phone conversation with Heero so I had to make it sound like he was one of those lesser toys. Hopefully, Heero would get it.

"Blake Edwards and Aiden Moore. They've been in an accident," Heero said quietly. "Car crash on their way to the airport. They are at Surry Medical. One serious, the other critical."

"Tell me why I care?"

Heero hesitated. I had to remember he was part of this operation, but not fully in the loop, while I was embedded to the neck. I tried rewording my response.

"Um, I'm busy with a customer, if you get my drift, so make it snappy, 'kay?"

I guess that did it and 'Ro decided I was making light of it for show, because he said, "Inform _Wind_ that two substitutes will arrive in two days."

"Oh, really? Anyone I know?"

"Ah, yes." Heero cleared his throat. "Call me when you are free."

"I'm on my way," I said quietly and hung up.

Gunter looked at me curiously. "Something wrong?"

I shrugged. "I've got to cut it short tonight. Two of our newest boys were in an accident and I'm afraid I need to go say my farewells in case one of them doesn't make it."

"Oh, my. Sounds terrible. Where are you going? I can have my driver take you."

I shook my head. "He can drive us back home. We've got a charter waiting for us there. I need to inform _Wind _and get his approval first."

Gunter stepped back over to me and smiled a real genuine smile. "Why don't you call me when you get back?"

I stared him in the eyes and he looked away for a brief second. "I'll think about it."

I walked over to the door and unlatched it to find Quatre hovering nearby. I closed the door partially and pulled Gunter over to me. I kissed him on the forehead again and smiled.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Alric."

He sucked his breath in quickly and I let him go. "You, too, _Scythe_. Call my number if you need something—anything."

I nodded and walked out, grabbing Quatre by the hand. I pulled him steadily along through the crowd, towards the front door. Trowa caught my eye, raised his eyebrows, and followed our heading. As we passed by Mill, Trowa wrapped an arm supportively around his shoulders, urging him along.

"I got a call. Two of ours have been in an accident," I told Mill with Gunter visible in his wake. I asked, letting my worry shine through my eyes, "May we go home now, _Wind_? There's a charter on the way to take us to the hospital. One might not make it." I might have sniffled convincingly.

Mill suppressed all his questions, although, I know he sensed the urgency in the tenor of my voice. "Of course, _Scythe._ Alric, please excuse our premature departure."

"Understandable circumstances. Damaged merchandise can be terribly unfortunate for you." Gunter shrugged elegantly as he walked us out the door. "My driver is waiting, he'll take you home."

I flashed him a smile and forced out, "Thanks, babe."

Mill moved between Trowa and me, and gripped my shoulder. When his weight leaned into me, I knew his energy reserves were drained. Trowa wrapped an arm carefully around his waist, taking on more of the man's weight down the stairs. I held tightly to my bud's hand to hide my trembling as we walked towards the limousine.

Mill tried to stop me, but I shook my head knowing I couldn't stop now. "Come on."

The driver was waiting next to the door and shut it as we got in. I stared out the window until we pulled up at the house. Trowa and I helped Mill out, and as we walked towards the house, Quatre opened the door.

It was like _déjá vu_ all over again as I ran to the bathroom, stripping my clothes off this time as I went. I had been breathing through the nausea off and on since I had met Gunter, but it wouldn't be held back now. I retched violently into the toilet and didn't notice when Mill sat down on the edge of the tub.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

I shook my head. "Do I look fine?"

"I see nothing, but," Mill said quietly, "he was fawning all over you."

"Later. Listen, Heero called."

Mill touched my shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"Edwards and Moore were in a car accident. No word yet on how they're doing beyond serious and critical."

Trowa and Quatre were leaning on either side of the door to the bathroom. "Meaning they don't know if one's going to make it?" Trowa offered.

"Is the mission scrubbed?" asked Quatre. "Can it go on with just the three of us?"

I shook my head. "We get two subs."

Mill stared at me, speechless. "Did he say who?"

"No, but I'll give you one guess."

"Heero and Wufei," Quatre said. "Oh, dear. Poor Wufei."

Mill's face darkened. "They are completely unsuitable, and Yuy has too recognizable a face, not to mention neither of them look like I picked them up off the streets. What was Une _thinking_? I must talk to that woman." He stood abruptly wincing in pain. "Duo, take a shower and get his touch off of you and you'll feel better. I'll go call Commander Une."

I touched his thigh. "Wash your hands first—you, too, guys. That place just felt like it was crawling with disease and drugs. Never know what you'll pick up in a hole like that."

Trowa and Quatre wanted to talk more about what had happened, but were polite enough to know when to wait me out and left to their own room. Mill went to the sink and washed his hands, while I stripped off the rest of my clothes then left without a word. I got into the shower with the water still almost cold. I literally scrubbed myself raw in places trying to get all traces of Gunter from my body and my memory.

Mill came back into the bathroom as I was rinsing off. He opened the door and smiled at me seconds before said, "Let my touch replace his."

"W-what?!" My mind was screaming: _You didn't just come on to me now, after what I just went through with Gunter?! __  
_

"I said," he repeated. "Commander Une said she'll let me… Oh, I give up." He stopped trying to shout over the roar of the water, and waited for me to shut it off. "Une said that the replacements are fixed. They are to be Yuy and Chang, as we guessed. We'll all have to double-up on the infiltration duties and extraction as well. And before you ask, the answer is no. Not you, me, or any of the others is flying back to see what's going on at Surry Medical. Une's orders. We are not to leave New Germany. We are not to leave tracks traceable to Preventer's."

I found I couldn't care less. I was not hearing clearly, which meant either I was imagining things or I was really stressed out _and_ imagining things. I should have cared more, but I didn't.

"Duo? Perhaps if you tell me what happened this evening, if it would help."

_Maybe so._ "I couldn't even get it up," I murmured, pressing my forehead into the wall of the shower. "The only way I did eventually was thinking of someone else." _Heero. _

I cranked on the hot water and steamed Gunter away a few minutes longer, before calling it quits. I shut the water off and stepped out of the shower. Mill handed me a towel.

"Um, you don't have to hang here," I told him bluntly. "I'm capable of cleaning up on my own and I don't need an audience."

He smiled and pushed the towel into my arms, but didn't leave.

"Suit yourself."

I quickly wrapped the towel around my waist, and then decided to give him a surprise. I stepped towards him and hugged him gently, trying to be careful of his ribs. I heard him gasp, but since I couldn't see his face, I couldn't tell if he was shocked or in pain, so I released him instantly.

"I wanted to see if you had any bruising or injuries that needed care." He kept his head turned so that his face was hidden by his hair. "When you are dressed, join us in the living room, please."

"I brought up the feed and the bug from Gunter's library, Duo. Good work under pressure," Trowa said.

Quatre's fingers brushed the damp bangs off my forehead. "Milliardo might not have had a clue about what you were doing, but you took what you knew and you worked with it. You had ... that man completely convinced." He squeezed my hand in his. "I've never seen you so out of character. You are…too good."

"Yeah, well, it doesn't feel very good. Matter of fact, I think I'll be permanently ill. Don't make me watch a replay or I'll lose it, again, guaranteed."

My stomach was still doing somersaults as we gathered on the comfortable couches in the living room. I preferred to go hide out and lick my wounds alone someplace.

Mill chuckled. "He was opening up when your phone rang."

I shrugged. "I promised to call Heero back," I told them and left the room.

"Hey," I whispered into my cell phone.

"Duo?" Heero's voice sounded on edge. He had probably been ready to snap open his cell phone ever since our last call. "Tell me about tonight."

"Love you, too," I said with a chuckle. My boyfriend would not be good for phone sex either, I guessed. "Tonight's something I'd rather not talk about without a little sleep."

"I know you made contact with Gunter. I just wanted to know how things went. You are okay so it can wait."

"Yeah, I'm fine, but here's something for you to pass on to the geeks there at headquarters who found us this apartment and all, something the idiot information gatherers can think on for awhile: we're watching the wrong house."

"The wrong house!"

"Gunter owns the place and visits it, keeps a boy here, but he's a rich-ass guy with an estate ten minutes out of town. I could bet my braid that the action takes place there."

"Shit." I could hear Heero's mental gears grinding over that fat juicy morsel. "That one tidbit of information will upset several of the higher-ups. Somebody's ass is going to be reamed over that."

"Yeah," I laughed aloud for the first time in a long while. "I'm just glad that, for once, it's not mine!"

"Or mine. He does keep a few boys across the street, right?"

"Yeah, so it's not a total loss. Trowa and I got some surveillance bugs in his place, too."

"You are wonderful," he told me.

"Tell me more," I begged.

I crashed on the futon, that night, clutching my cell phone like a lifeline to my boyfriend, and didn't wake up until the smell of lunch wafted past the open office door the next day.

"Where's Tro'?" I asked.

Over coffee and Quatre's potato pancakes, Mill clued me in on what had already been going on. "I spoke to Gunter this morning," Mill said quietly. "He requested _Tamer_ to house-sit across the street for a few hours this morning. It seems that Gunter hasn't been back to the house yet and Strom let him in, then left. Trowa has been trying to communicate with the little boy, Jimmy."

"Oh yeah?"

He nodded. "In the mean time, business of the other kind is gearing up. I don't know who the buyer is for the next shipment, but I have the location of the meeting place, thanks to a bug on some the phone conversations and one of the car tracers."

"What is the drug of choice and where does Alric get it, or does his company really manufacture it?"

"Well, that's kind of complicated. As we guessed, he manufactures, but from the records he also buys compounds and distributes. The shipment that's coming in a few weeks is from Brussels or Belgium and it's going to be very large."

"How large?" I asked.

"It will all be inside an identical replica of Michelangelo's 'David', only it's hollow. It's been passed back and forth overseas so many times, I don't know how it's holding up." He looked at me kind of funny. "You do know that the original is nearly seventeen feet tall; that's a lot of empty space."

"Well, that explains the art collecting angle," I said. "How does the money change hands?"

"That's part of our job to find out." Mill smiled. "The statue has an escort, who I believe will be a direct link to someone in the Romefeller Foundation. Maybe we'll pin it on Dermail that way."

He looked down at his watch. "The statue is then refilled with different drugs, which Alric produces himself, we are guessing. That's one of the details we need to clear up."

"And then there's that new drug he's cooking up," Quatre said. "Wufei is sitting on the lab guys heads, but it's still a partial mystery. He said it was a complex."

Mill nodded. "I hope Wufei stays on them until they get the anti-toxin done."

"Maybe I oughtta sleep in more often," I muttered. "Maybe you guys'd solve the whole thing." I noticed a movement outside the window. Trowa waved from the sidewalk. "Hey, look who's back!"

He joined us at the table, smiled a private smile for Quatre, accepted a can of soda, and ran a hand through his re-styled, streaky, strawberry blond bangs.

"Progress report," Mill said.

"'Kay. First off, I talked to the little boy, Jimmy. He trusts me and understands how to swallow the tracking pills. I hid one in his room in case he's taken when we can't get close. Second, Gunter wanted me over to test if I can follow orders like a good soldier. He told me the other guards that had been staying at the house were gone, but when they returned, I could go home, which I did when Strom and another dude I recognized from the club, named Raul, showed up. Before I left, I overheard this Raul guy on the phone. He mentioned a delivery date for a shipment from Belgium. Trouble is I couldn't tell if it was art or boys or drugs or some combination."

"Good job, Trowa," Mill said. "That fits into the information from the previous phone taps. I was just filling Duo in on what we'd learned. We'll just have to make sure that when the local agencies go in on that one, Gunter is nowhere around, and that he's not taken in."

"I just want him locked up," I grumbled, tired of waiting for the big score.

"I know, but maybe this is where we get to Strom and try to cut him a deal testifying against Gunter. We need Gunter free for a little while longer so that we can trace the drug supply line and find where the rest of the boys are hidden. We must locate the training camps and identify the Romefeller connection."

"Shall I try to ID this Raul to see if he has a record?" Quatre asked.

"Yes," Mill said. "Pass anything you can to Chang as soon a possible. The man's setting up drug stings in five places at once, but if we can narrow down the possibilities, it will simplify matters."

"There's more," Trowa said. "He seems to like art and he seems to like little boys."

I swallowed so hard it hurt. I suddenly felt as if I couldn't breathe and I sat straighter in the chair, trying to ease the nausea rolling through my stomach. I always hated when kids where at the mercy of monsters.

"Seems to like them how?" Quatre asked.

"It's suspected that he either abducts them or buys them from other traders," Mill said, "which is why Preventers set us up watching him in the first place." He stopped for second and looked up at Trowa, who shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

"Uh, yeah," Trowa said. "He's got himself a harem going. I think that he loans the boys out as sexual favors."

"Oh, no," Quatre moaned. "Training teenagers for an army is one thing but this—"

"Fuck Gunter and all his kind," I muttered.

Mill looked at Trowa and me sympathetically. He stood and rested his hands on my shoulders. "I know it's a nasty game to play, but just know that I'm with you no matter what."

"His touch to me is so revolting; it takes everything I have to not lose it." I sighed and laid my head against his arm. The contact was warm and reassuring, even if it wasn't Heero's. "I will not do another undercover operation after this, ever."

I threw and arm over my eyes and listened while the others traded suggestions and ideas. I was no good for planning. Just throw me to the wolves and let me fight my way out. I was feeling sorry for myself at the time.

"I think," Trowa said, "that, _Wind,_ you will have to get Gunter to trust you enough so that he offers you one of the boys."

"Then," Quatre went on, tripping over the difficult parts, "you arrange to-to buy the boy, offer him a payment telling him you will want to keep the boy in your custody and safe, possibly to train like us. If he agrees, then that's all the proof we need to have him arrested."

"True, but Une wants more information as to who some of his contacts and some of his buyers are. A name of anyone higher up than him, is also a big plus." Mill stopped and drew a breath, wincing from his still-tender ribs. "We want the army sights where they send the older ones, we want the drug ring-- we want it all."

Quatre sighed. "I've been trying to put all the pieces together, you know? There's this dangerous new drug and Gunter tested it on Duo. He's a big man in drug production, at a place we now know is Jade Pharmaceuticals, thanks to your hard work, Duo."

I signaled I'd heard, but made no move to join in. Let Quatre shine.

"The documentation on him assigns him an owner role in the company, so he may have close connections inside, maybe with R & D. He was testing this new drug on interesting possible clients in clubs. At least Wufei should be happy understanding why he hasn't been able to associate him with any drug cartel."

"So, Gunter's maybe the owner of a legitimate pharmaceutical company making experimental control drugs on the side," Mill suggested.

Quatre grinned. "That's what I think. And the 'why?'"

"All the better to control his little army of boys," I said, sitting up, interested again. "And he moves the drugs in hollow statues from one port dump to another, wherever the …"

"Need is!" Quatre chirped. "When the new drug is ready, he'll be sending it to where the boys are being held and trained."

"So if a shipment is coming here," Trowa put in, "that would mean one base is here, someplace."

"Or there's no shipment, just the hollow statue coming back for filling, then back to the bases."

"Dear gods," Mill said. "Quatre might be right."

"Now, you know why we always thought of Quatre as the brains of our little group," I said, proud of my bud and his logic.

Mill had a headache to tend to in his room, which left the rest of us free to spend the rest of the day doing housework and continuing to monitor the computers—and if we had time, we too could rest up for the next round of clubbing fun. There was purpose in living after all.

Since Heero and Wufei would get into town any day, there was the other ex-office to fix up into a bedroom. I'd let Wufei have my futon where the computers were stationed. He'd want to be in the thick of the monitoring and have some privacy. I quietly moved some of my stuff from Mill's closet and made up a new queen-sized futon for Heero and me. I couldn't wait. I fixed a lasagna dinner and set the oven timer before joining Trowa in the living room to watch the news. Quatre was in the back of the house, moving clothes from the washer to the drier, when my cell phone started buzzing.

I got up from the couch and went in search of the errant phone. It had somehow made it under the over-stuffed chair. I stared at the caller ID that showed a number but not a name. I pushed the button and answered the phone. "Hello."

There was a brief pause and then Gunter's voice came over the line. "_Scythe_?"

"Hello, Alric," I said trying to sound friendly enough.

This was about the last thing that I needed. Trowa sat up looking concerned. He raised an eyebrow and I knew he was wondering how Gunter had gotten a hold of my cell number. That was exactly what I wanted to know.

"How are your… companions… faring?"

"Less of an emergency than first thought. You know how over-dramatic some bitches can get. Anyway, the ones in the accident are doing much better. Mostly they were scared silly. They were pretty shook up, but no real injuries, as it turned out. They'll be settling in at our house soon and be all ready to go out on the town." I swallowed that revolting taste in my mouth at being so polite. "How are you?"

"Missing you," Gunter said. "Will you meet me tomorrow night?"

"Meet you? Why?"

"I want to see you."

"I don't think that's a good idea right now. I got lots to take care of around here getting ready to take on two more responsibilities. Besides, you can't be that hard up to see me."

I'd practically scrubbed myself raw the last time Gunter had touched me, and I just wasn't ready to do that again anytime soon.

"I was missing you when you left here."

"Are you trying to change the way this game is played?" I asked, trying to sound as dominating as I knew how.

Quatre dumped the laundry basket on the coffee table, joining Trowa. They both watched and listened intently to the one-sided conversation without offering advice.

I must have been doing okay, so I continued, "You get pushy and I'm not going to hang around. I don't need that."

Gunter stuttered. "I...I just want to see you."

"I told you I'd call, didn't I?"

"Well, yes, but..."

"Where're you going to be tomorrow night?"

"Club Oz," he said quietly.

"Oz, huh?"

Trowa grimaced.

"Well, if...and that's a big if...if I come, I won't be alone. I just don't want you to forget that and I don't want you to forget who's in charge." Man that sounded weak. I clenched my teeth and demanded, "Who is in charge, Alric?"

Gunter drew in a sharp breath. "You are."

"Thanks for your concern for _Wind's_ other boys. I'll let you know something tomorrow about the club. Goodnight Alric."

I slammed shut the cell phone and tossed it onto the floor, where it skidded under the chair again. I rubbed my hand roughly over my face in aggravation. "Fuck!"

"Duo?" Quatre called out from the far side of the laundry basket. "What's happened?"

"Oh, Gunter, that's all. He's going to want me to fuck him before we're ready to end this, I just know it."

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Quatre said dismissing the problem. He grabbed a clean pair of boxers from the pile of freshly laundered clothes and tossed them at me. "Here, take a relaxing shower and get dressed so I don't have to fold those. Then, we're all going eat and enjoy the excellent dinner you made and watch the DVD I brought like the close friends and comrades we are. For right now, we are going to forget all about Gunter."

I blew my breath out slowly. "Easy for you to say, Q-baby. He's not trying to touch _your _most favorite body parts."

Quatre winked at me, which I thought was odd.

Then from behind my back a familiar voice intoned like a depth charge, **"Oh yes, he is."**

End, It's Back to Work, Chapter Ten


	18. It’s Back to Work Chapter 11

**DEFYING GRAVITY**

Part Two: It's Back to Work

**Chapter Eleven**

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Gundam Wing or its characters, nor doI make any monetary profit off this story.  
Warnings: 1x2x1, 3x4x3, AU, yaoi, some language

--Kaeru Shisho 5/28/2007 13:13 This chapter returns to Heero's POV as he strives to revive his Duo.

* * *

To be honest, I don't know which came more as a surprise to me, Quatre's pleading call or Trowa's desperate one, but my concern for Duo and the mission mounted when Zechs' cell ID illuminated my phone. Calls from all three, deep in undercover was unprecedented; particularly, when I had been ordered unambiguously to stay out of the loop. Notification to act would come through Wufei Chang. 

"I may have been wrong asking you leave so abruptly," Zechs began.

"Hn."

"It may have set him off, triggered a defense mechanism in him."

"What do you mean?" I asked, my anxiety for Duo's well-being escalating dramatically. "Is he failing to comply with mission parameters?"

"No, it's not that," Zechs said quickly. "Maxwell performs his job to perfection."

"That's the problem then?" I asked, sarcasm entering my tone as a natural reaction to Zechs' overbearing one. "His dedication can't be faulted?"

"I have a degree in psychology, Yuy. The man has let his UC role take over his personality. This isn't just my perception, since I don't know Duo as well as his other teammates. Winner and Barton are in complete agreement."

"None of you have ever worked with Duo on a mission like this. He has always worked solo. He insisted on it. I am sure he is aware of his mindset on an undercover, infiltration job and has avoided partnering for that reason." I had defended Duo, and now I would risk undermining his image in order not to forfeit my credibility. "We know he has become more attached to his roles. We have been aware of his growing problem with each new assignment; even he has, because he did not ask for this assignment, if you recall."

"It is making my job very difficult. He has fixated on me," Zechs said. "I am not a homosexual. This mission is challenging enough for me without having to fight off his advances in the few minutes of downtime we have. His ability to distinguish real from imaginary is… diminished, I'm afraid."

It hurt me to imagine my lover fawning over Zechs Marquise, a man who was once our enemy. It must be killing Duo inside as well, I thought. Still, I had my orders.

"It takes work to get into a role. He can't just turn it on when he walks out the door and off the moment he walks back in. He stays UC for the duration. You know that. What do you want me to do?"

"Arrange a trade. You and Chang for the other two undercover operatives, and do it immediately."

"We are not…suitable for UC. You said so yourself."

"Correct. You are not homosexuals nor do you look European, but you can ground Duo Maxwell."

I sighed deeply. I did not want to demoralize Duo by making him think we doubted his ability, especially if it was mostly just to alleviate Zechs' discomfort level. That I was gay, well, he'd figure that out sooner or later if I was to be working close with Duo. I would not correct his impression of me now.

"If you can't do this, Yuy, I will pull Duo from the operation."

"That would be terrible for both Duo and the mission," I said.

"I will not continue working with what appears to be a walking, ticking time bomb that might blow at a critical moment."

"Duo will not 'blow'," I assured him.

"This assurance coming from a man who tried to blow up himself with his Gundam? Yuy, either both you and Chang show, or Maxwell goes. You have two days."

"Ludicrous, however, I will make my arrangements immediately. You realize Chang will be left holding together everything we are doing here—alone. He won't be able to train replacements and extricate himself soon."

Zechs was not pleased, but he had no choice but agree to give Chang an additional week. None of us had a choice in the matter, it seemed. Forced to make irrational alterations to plans aggravated me, removing my motivation to perform well. Chang would have a temper tantrum.

I couldn't wait to call Chang Wufei with the news.

I have always had emotions, deep ones. I attempted to control the display of them as much as possible in the past, especially during the war, which was work. As I have grown older, I have better balanced my emotions with my ability to concentrate and make sound judgments, allowing me to empathize with my friends and fellow agents. Still, working intimately with my boyfriend and lover would test my skills to the limit, I feared.

I packed my bag, which I had to purchase since Duo had taken mine, for a operation of unknown length and requirements. I had never been less prepared for an assignment in my life. I called Une and told her of the new mission parameters, leaving out the crucial information concerning Zechs' discomfort or doubts about Duo's suitability. She was unhappy, basically, with my explanation, but I was determined to be as uncommunicative as possible. This did not surprise her. She trusted me as usual, but I think she questioned Zechs' leadership. Fine with me. As long as she didn't doubt Duo, I didn't care what conclusions Une drew or excuses she had to make up for herself to be satisfied with the sudden change.

Chang, well, ballistic covers his reaction. For a man who considers himself the master of control, Chang Wufei can also be inflexible and unable to take in stride sudden revisions or reversals to the plans. Even Duo could suppress his angry outbursts better than Wufei. I gave him a few minutes to unload without comment or interruption. When he wound down, he agreed to join us as soon as he was certain the extraction plans, for which he and I were jointly responsible, were in place.

Nothing substandard would do. Not going in without a clear, detailed, way out. _Reinforcements. Transportation. Fully armed. Backup strategies! _The man could rant.

He was right, though, so I agreed to let him get on with what only he could now do, while I got ready to leave immediately. With a call to Preventer's special ops services, I arranged for an agency rental car fully equipped with sniper gear, med kit, and night vision tools waiting at the airport on my arrival in New Germany. Although I couldn't prepare for the role of a male whore eager to leave the streets and join an army, I could _be_ an army.

I thought I could prepare for most anything, but I forgot to safeguard my heart against breakage.

The trip lasted several hours. Driving, flying, driving, wrinkling my clothes from the long non-stop traveling, until finally I reached the covert ops house in New Germany, where Zechs, Winner, Barton, and my boyfriend were shacked up.

When I stepped into the house, entering the security codes to gain entrance, I could hear Duo's voice. He was easy to locate, however, I couldn't believe my eyes. Duo looked so different with his hair dressed with curls and the eye makeup. His voice and movements had altered from when I seen him last. It was as if the role had absorbed him, just as Zechs had said. I stopped at a threshold and listened.

"Easy for you to say, Q-baby. He's not trying to touch your most favorite body parts."

Winner was facing the door and spotted me then quickly looked back at Duo and winked.

Before he could say anything, I spoke up. "Oh yes, he _is_."

"Heero! I wasn't expecting you for weeks!" Duo cried out.

I rushed into his open arms and held him just to make certain he was real. He didn't kiss me, so I assumed it was because of our audience and that he hadn't informed Zechs of our relationship, or didn't feel it was the time and place. When he pushed away I noticed Zechs wasn't in the room. Whatever the reason, I didn't press him for a further show of affection. Not yet.

"I arranged for this trip right after my last visit, but after your last phone call leaving Gunter's party, I jumped on a plane and got here ASAP, thinking I could be of more use to you here and now rather than later."

"Oh yeah? I'm doing okay," Duo said defensively.

"Sounds like you are," I assured him, quickly adding, "I brought a few new toys special ops engineered just for us."

"Oh, well, that's okay," he said.

I looked him over, but said nothing about the changes in him. I wanted to get Duo alone and talk. Winner and Barton were in the room.

"Zechs is resting in his room," Barton told me.

"I have to go out and trade cars. I reserved an equipped car at the local Preventer's agency, but I couldn't wait to see you first. Would you like to come along?" I asked Duo.

He shook his head. "I don't think that's a good idea, me being seen near a Preventer's building."

I couldn't help my disappointment showing, I guess, because Winner stepped up to smooth out my homecoming.

"Why don't you sit and rest a little first. I'll get you some tea. You can show us what you brought," Winner said brightly.

So, I showed off the new tracking devices with microphones and cameras, disguised cleverly as decorative necklaces, or "dog collars" as Barton called them.

"Why so many? You aren't going to the club tomorrow to meet Gunter. Just me," Duo said.

I didn't want to get into an argument. I was tired, hungry, and my heart was constricting into a raisin. I was bothered that he was going clubbing alone, too.

"I didn't bring these to wear anytime soon, although it would be a good idea if we tested them out," I said, cautiously. "These were designed, in particular, for when we all go to the big trading show. There's one for everyone."

I demonstrated how to work the collar features: the large, central diamond" pendant was the camera lens; the tag at the closure contained a tracking device specific to that particular wearer; a powerful microphone; and the other decorative details, which were micro-storage devices.

Duo reached over suddenly to knock the delicate jewelry out of my hand, shouting, "I'm no goddamned bitch wearing some fucking dog collar!"

My arm flew up to block his hands, but he moved so quickly. My elbow connected with his shoulder, sending him spinning off-balance. He crashed into the coffee table, hitting his head and spilling my tea over his shirt. I could tell his injuries were minor, but as a homecoming meeting, it was a major failure.

Winner suggested I go take care of car and let Duo cool off. I was relieved not to have to go alone, when Barton accepted the open offer to accompany me and "ditch the bitch-fest."

"That wasn't good," Barton said.

"No," I agreed. "I wasn't prepared to be the enemy."

"You're not. Give him time. He's not like that most of the time. Gunter called him right before you walked in. He's stressed about meeting the perv again."

I nodded. "He will not go alone."

Barton smiled, "O-kay," meaning that it would my battle to fight, not his. I had fight in me to match Duo and Zechs combined. I turned my airport rental car into a driveway leading to the NG Preventer's garage, hoping they had my specially equipped car ready. I didn't want to wait. I didn't want to find out it was queued up and hours away from ready.

"Yes, sir! I made sure they got you the sniper kit under the back seat, just as you asked, Agent Yuy, sir." The novice agent in charge of maintenance greeted me as if I were a commander. "I'd been underneath it changing the oil only a couple of days ago, so I can tell you the car's in good condition. Everything's there, just like you asked for."

"Thank you," I said. "Could you do me one more favor?"

"For you? Wow, I'm just so honored to meet you! A favor for Heero Yuy the war hero? Ask away!"

I blushed. I could feel the heat on my neck and heard Barton chuckle, calling attention to my discomfort. I hated to fall back on my past reputation to get favors, but there were times when I had to.

"I need to get the other rental back to the airport."

"I can do that! I have packages to deliver to air freight. I'll get a ride back with my buddy there. He drives a cab, so it's really no problem."

I thanked him again, traded 'how did a nice Irish boy like you ended up at the New Germany office?' stories, and then I took the keys and returned with Barton to The Hell House. That night I slept on a futon in the guest room, alone.

The next morning wasn't any better, nor was the afternoon. I tried to corner Zechs and talk about his urgent phone call which brought me here. He remained sullen and uncommunicative.

"You called me, if you recall, asking, no, _demanding _that Chang and I drop everything, come here UC, jeopardize the mission, in order to ground Duo in reality. Then, when I get here, you brush me off. I thought you were the professional shrink. Summa cum lauda with a B.A. in clinical psych; picked first in your class for admission to the doctoral program at Sanc University. Graduate in the top five."

"You've read my resume," he said.

"I know a lot more about you after OZ than you think. At only twenty-one, you already published research papers on power dynamics in male relationships, non-verbal communication, and have come up with an interesting theory for your dissertation on something you called the alpha-male personality type," I said, proving I did more than merely read his resume. I memorized it and researched him a little more.

"Well, you've done more than read my resume, Agent Yuy, which, all in all, is pretty flattering," he said complacently. "But I still don't quite see how this fits the problem here."

"You called me. You tell me how I can help."

"Leave. I was just venting. Duo gets a little over zealous, but it's all under control now."

"Hn." My runic comment said it all, I thought.

My next conversation was with Duo and bordered on surreal. I knocked at the open door to the office where Duo was studying a computer monitor with a stricken look on his face. I walked over to him, but stopped when his raised a hand.

"I think it's time for you to pack and go home," he said.

"What're you doing?" I whispered.

"Making choices," he said. He folded his arms over his chest protectively. "Just go home."

I opened my mouth to object and his eyes flashed dangerously, meeting mine pointedly. "I need you to go home now."

I shook my head slowly. He stared at me wide-eyed and said, "You don't have to do this."

I smiled at him. "I know."

The haunted look in his eyes as he tried to object was one I hoped to forget. I left immediately rather than be reduced to an exchange blows, shutting the door behind me. It didn't really matter now what my new orders were. I was going to stay. I'd sealed my own fate, made my own bed, and now I was about to lie in it.

The fight began again in the evening as we were preparing to go meet Gunter at the club.

"Damn it Heero, why are you in that car?"

"We don't all fit in the Jaguar."

"You are not, I repeat, NOT going to Club Oz with me tonight. I thought that was understood."

"It's just a car." I said casually. "The plates are non-traceable," I added in case Duo would question my sanity or judgment further. He just stared angrily at me.

"We're playing a game, Duo. I'm willing to do things that you, Winner, and Barton aren't able or aren't willing to do."

I opened the door and started to get out of the car.

"Trowa's not coming tonight, is he?" Duo asked.

His growing alarm with the changing circumstances worried me. He had always been good at rolling with the punches.

"I assume he is," I answered. "He's inside, dressing to go out."

"I don't exactly like that statement knowing that you aren't supposed to be involved in this game and he's supposed to be over at Gunter's house. Jimmy better not have been left alone at that house. I'm really starting to get pissed. I hate it when things change right in the middle of the game!"

"Stop making a scene. Not here Duo, just look happy," I warned him with a nod to the house across the street.

"Name's _Scythe_, asshole." Duo growled something else, spun around, and headed back into the house, calling for Zechs, or _Wind_, leaving me to catch up behind him.

"Do you know anything about this?" Duo demanded.

Zechs shook his head. "If I'd have known, I'd have told you, however—" He stopped me at the front door before we went in. "Heero has never been wrong in what he's decided on his own to do. If he's here, he's here for a reason. Just listen to him before you go off."

"Are you suggesting that I go off regularly?" he asked.

Zechs smiled and opened the door. "No, honey, I'm not suggesting that at all."

I could read Duo's body language pretty well, in spite of the changes, and right now I could see him bristling from what he would have felt was an insult, even though Zechs hadn't actually insulted him. And then he flung himself into Zechs' arms, pulling the older man down for a kiss.

My vision shut down as a cold chill froze the blood in my veins. No, I did not see that! For me, time was suspended. I tried to parse the surrealistic scene playing out in full view of my comrades. I could not do it, anything, but especially not "it."

"I'm taking a walk. Work this out by the time I get back," I told them both and left.

Zechs called Duo "honey," which really irritated me. I knew I was a jealous man, but I couldn't help how I felt! I repeated to myself what I'd told Zechs: he can't just turn it off and on like a tap. Duo is _Scythe_.

Worked shit.

I don't know if it had to do with how so much had changed for everyone but me in the time that they'd been here or that it was just that I hadn't started together in this house. I felt like a real outsider, and considered leaving. I knew that leaving here would be one of the hardest things for me to do. I didn't want to leave Duo in this way, hostile against me, while he was in mission mode.

The exercise cleared my head, somewhat, but the moment I passed over the threshold, I instantly felt as if I were back in the alternate universe home. As I walked in, I was greeted with seeing Zechs with his arms wrapped around Duo, staring out the window overlooking the backyard, at the rising moon, I guessed.

I had certainly not expected something like this. It seemed that all I could do for a few moments was stare. I hadn't known that Zechs was possibly _bi_. I'd been informed _by him_ that he was heterosexual, married with a child. I had pictured him as the jock who would sleep with the entire cheerleading squad, just because he could. I almost laughed at my own thoughts, thinking that it might have been the football team instead.

Duo had some major problems and major hurt in his past and I didn't think a fantasy love affair was going to help him any. Not to mention I was jealous as hell. And hurt. So hurt that it didn't occur to me that Zechs needed help, too. That he couldn't hop in and out of his role instantly either. My being there tampered with his 'master' role.

"Duo, can I talk to you for a second?" I asked quietly.

They both turned and I could see the nervousness in Duo's eyes. I couldn't believe how clearly I could read him. He looked down and away from me as if he'd done something wrong. Zechs cleared his throat nodded. He kissed Duo softly on the cheek and started towards me.

"I'm sure you have plenty of questions," he said as he walked past me. "Talk to me first."

"Hn." He was right about that one. The first question I had was about what was going on between him and Duo. "I'll be a moment, Duo. Don't go away."

I followed Zechs to the office and shut the door. He sat in the office chair and I leaned against the desk. I wasted no time getting to the point.

"What's going on between you and Duo? You act like his lover, encouraging his fantasy. How am I supposed to fight against the two of you?"

"Couldn't you start with something easier?"

"Look, I'm the last person to talk about relationships and fuck-buddies, but he's in a delicate situation. Whatever you do affects him and your faking and doing things with him will hurt him more than it will hurt anyone else." I crossed my arms over my chest. "Did you pick him for this role because he looked easy?"

"I'm not faking it with him, I genuinely care for him," he said quietly. "This is a role and it is difficult to move in and out of it, and he's terribly… persuasive."

"In only a few weeks, on a damned UC mission, you care for him?" I asked with a snort. "How the hell can you know him well enough in such a short amount of time, under mission-controlled conditions, to know how you might feel?"

"Oh, you're the last one who should be using that as an argument against it. How long was it before you and Duo were on intimate terms?"

I inhaled a breath and blew it out slowly. Had he guessed or had Duo told him we were lovers, or was it once lovers and now—what were we? "That's none of your business. It's different."

"Why is it different exactly?" Zechs got up from the chair and began to pace.

"We were off duty, for one thing, and we're friends, Zechs. Close friends."

"Don't give me a bunch of shit here, Yuy. I can smell a jealous man a mile away. Back off. I know enough about his past and what he's been through, that I just want to hold him close and heal those deep wounds. I am his master and he looks up to me. I am all he needs."

I should have actually listened to what he was saying. I was talking to _Wind_.

Instead, I laughed. "That's a far cry from what you thought at the agency. It was you yourself that didn't think trusting him was a good idea. Une had to force the partnership on you. And the phone calls to me? What was with that? You pulled me off my work, demanding I come here and save Duo, but it looks like it's you who's gone half-cocked insane."

He glared at me. "Need I remind you what you said about him?"

I hadn't wanted Duo to ever return to this kind of work. I'd wanted him to quit, be safe. It wasn't a bad want, just not a particularly flattering one to Duo's tender ego.

"Maybe you can both tell me what was said about me to my face instead of talking about me behind closed doors. I mean it's only fair right?"

Duo's voice floated softly through the room. He stood forlornly in the doorway of the office. I had not heard or noticed that the door had even been opened, but now, a moment later, he then looked pointedly at me.

"Let me guess, did it have anything to do with how I can't be trusted not to blow this and lose it or something? Or how about that no matter what happens, Gunter will taint me for the rest of my life? How I'll never really amount to anything? I mean, I've pretty much heard everything that anyone has ever said about me; so it's nothing new. What's new is having it said behind my back. Most people have the balls to tell me to my face that I'm worthless."

I suddenly felt such sympathy for him. I knew that I'd not said anything about him that was derogatory in any way, but I still felt like I was guilty of something.

"You're not worthless Duo," I said as I stared at him. "You're worth is definitely not calculated by the company you keep. I don't think that Jimmy would think you are worthless. I think that he will feel very lucky to have you there working for his release, when his world has otherwise fallen apart."

"Oh yeah, if I were him I'd feel so lucky," he said sarcastically. "After being used by some monster to go back to a place that's more of a prison than a home, only to have a bigger monster waiting for me there. I'd feel so lucky to be owned and passed around with others making a profit off of my tiny little body. Oh, you bet I'd feel so damned lucky."

Tears trickled down his cheeks. "If I were him, I would absolutely hate me. It's not like I've exactly done anything to get him out of there."

"What can you do Duo? What can you do to get him out and keep him safe?" I asked. "Even you can't get away from Gunter."

He sighed and looked away. "I'll see you later guys. I can drive myself to the club. You all know where to find me."

"Don't you dare walk out of here," Zechs said as he finally found his voice. "You'll know exactly what was said about you; neither of us has anything to hide."

Duo shook his head. "I can't deal with this right now. I have to get out of here."

Just as I was about to take Duo into my arms, he flinched. I hesitated and then hugged him tightly against my chest. "Oh, Duo, don't ever think I would hurt you."

Zechs looked at me, confused, and shook his head. I knew that Duo had more issues than he could even begin to understand.

"Duo?" I called his name out gently and when he looked at me, I tried to give him a reassuring smile. "Do you want to know what I said?"

He shook his head. "No, that's okay."

He tried to pull away but I tightened my hold. "In a nutshell, what I basically said to Zechs was that you had been through a lot and to go easy on you. I trusted you and what you'd told us about that night at the club with Gunter and without batting an eye, but," I softened my voice to check the strong emotions making me hoarse. "Duo, I was concerned about you being left alone with Gunter again. I… we both care for you so very much. No mission is worth destroying your health or your mind."

"You trust me?"

"I always have, but I read your body language, too. I know you like working infiltration missions alone and not as a team. You are cutting the rest of us out, and we are here to support you."

Duo stared at me for a few moments as if he didn't understand.

"I read your actions, the way you moved, even your voice. No matter how much I wanted to think you were still the Duo I loved, I knew you weren't. You've become this Scythe character. The only time you were my Duo was when you greeted me when I first arrived. I'd surprised you. There was something about you that was just off to me, though, and I didn't figure it out until we were at the car waiting. I figured out that you didn't want to invite anyone else into Gunter's world. That you want to carry the weight of this mission alone to protect the rest of us."

He shrugged off a single layer of _Scythe._ "I could have been just trying to get some drugs and sex."

I laughed. "Were you?"

"What do you think?" He smiled slightly and shrugged off a little more of his UC persona. "I had to know what Gunter was doing and convince him we were all into it, but Quatre…he's not cut out for this. Trowa's barely able to hold it together."

"You guys having a secret meeting, or can we join in, too?" Quatre asked, a frown creasing his brow and Trowa looking over his shoulder.

"No, come in, both of you," Zechs began. "Quatre, give me your analysis of Duo so far."

"Duo is scared and he looks away from our eyes quite a bit. He's avoiding your gaze because he's afraid of confrontation. He looks you in the eye though when it's really important and uses his hands to try to get the point across that he's telling the truth. That showy little bravado that he exudes is his safety zone. He's been hurt badly before, you can tell by the way he watches a person when they walk by him. He's looking to make sure he isn't hit. There's a lot more to him than meets the eye, but I'm sure you already know that."

"Damn it, Barton, your boyfriend is a bona fide profiler," Zechs laughed and started walking away.

"Quatre's many things," Trowa agreed with a lop-sided smile. "Although 'boyfriend'…you didn't hear that from either of us."

"Being able to read people so well, you'd think you'd trust those of us that are truly being sincere with you," Zechs said directly to Quatre, ignoring Trowa's relationship side-step.

Quatre's clear blue eyes flashed. "But I do!"

Zechs shook his head. "You don't trust me. None of you do, actually, except Duo, and then that's only some of the time."

"We've never worked with you before," Quatre said defending us all. "In fact, we once fought against you to the death, Heero in particular. We, on the other hand, have been looking out for one another for years. You can't expect instant good karma."

"Didn't I see that in the store along with the soups?" Duo asked.

"Nah," Trowa drawled. "Instant _Ramen_. Not the same thing at all."

"Man, I could use something before I go out. I'm starving!"

_Scythe_ was gone and Duo was back, for a little while, it seemed.

End, It's Back to Work, Chapter Eleven


	19. It’s Back to Work Chapter 12

**DEFYING GRAVITY**

Part Two: It's Back to Work

**Chapter Twelve**

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Gundam Wing or its characters, nor do I make any monetary profit off this story.  
Warnings: 1x2x1, 3x4x3, AU, yaoi, some language, drug abuse

--Kaeru Shisho 5/28/2007 13:16 We are still in Heero's head for this chapter. He has difficulties handling the job.

* * *

If Duo was thinking about eating, then he was all right. Thankfully, even Zechs chuckled at Trowa's joke and we all lightened up some, got drinks, snacks, and started over. My introduction to the nightlife of New Germany would be delayed a few more minutes. Zechs agreed to allow Barton and Duo to introduce me to the clubbing scene at the same time Duo kept his appointment with Gunter. He and Winner would man the feeds and monitors at home. It was Duo's call as to who joined him when he met Gunter. It wasn't perfect, but at least Duo wouldn't go alone and I was part of the plan. 

"Next question," Duo asked. "While _Tamer_'s with us, who's with Jimmy?"

"He's with Strom and Raul," Barton said.

"Strom?" I asked, not knowing whom he was referring to.

"Strom Anton," Winner said.

"You left him alone with him?"

Barton cleared his throat and nodded. "It's chill. Strom's only around for the drugs, but he is the one that's spent the most time at the house with us. He's pretty quiet, but he's ruthless. He watches that boy like a hawk, and, as far as I can tell, he's not a pedophilic perv. Alric has had me there for the past few days, but he doesn't trust me to be alone with Jimmy most of the time. This morning, Alric called Strom back to the house after giving him the day off, telling him I needed to get out more, and then called Raul also.

"I guess it's Raul I don't know anything about," I said. "Have you given information about him to headquarters?"

Barton nodded once more. "I gave them a list of everyone I've ever seen or heard of in the entire time I've been in Gunter's house. Winner's ID'd him."

Winner, on cue, filled in the blanks. "Raul Frolich, son of New Germany master art dealer, Franz Frolich. No police record on either of them, though."

I wondered just exactly how much freedom Gunter allowed Barton. "Has he kept a pretty tight watch on you all of this time?"

"Sometimes it seems like he's always there, watching, waiting for me to fuck up; and then others it's like he forgets I even exist." Barton looked up at me. "I should get back there later tonight."

Duo jumped up. "I want to check the feeds."

I knew it was mostly to get his mind off his worries and calm his fraying nerves. Zechs stood also. "Are we done here for tonight?"

"We haven't finished discussing this thing between you, Heero, and Duo," Winner said, looking to me for permission to say more. "I can't live and work under the same roof with all this tension building."

"Why is it such a big deal?" Zechs asked.

"He has an empathic ability," Trowa said. "When he says the mood level is bothering him, it is."

"Really?" Zechs was completely unaware of Winner's ability or the strain it put upon his personality.

In order to clear the air, I decided to "out" myself, Duo, and our relationship right there and then. If there was going to be any Duo and me in the future, then I had to put a stop to Zechs' interference. If Duo never forgave me, then I didn't know what I'd do, but I couldn't just sit there and watch the two of them carry on an affair, fantasy or not, without giving it a go.

"I can settle this right now," I said, interrupting the others. "When this job is over, Zechs, I'll be there. I love Duo, and asked him to marry me. I offered him my heart, a home, a permanent life in the real world, and he accepted. When this is over, that's what we are going to do. Can you offer him the same?"

Zechs looked shocked to the core. He jaw dropped, his eyes widened, and he lost his cool reserve. "You are gay? I was just trying to get a reaction out of you before; I didn't even suspect that the jealous lover act you were putting on was _real_."

I nodded. "Can you offer him the same?" I repeated.

Zechs shook his head, still stunned from my admission.

"I didn't think so. Now, I'm going to go to this club and keep an eye on my lover. And when I get back, I want any of his things left in your room-- or bathroom-- **out** and into the spare bedroom with me. I will bring him home tonight and hope he wants to stay in that room with me."

"We'll see," Zechs said, stepping closer to me.

"Yes, we will," I countered with a step of my own and clenched fists.

"You should leave in ten minutes," Winner said.

"That should give me time to get you dressed for the part," Barton said, tugging on my sleeve, pulling me apart from Zechs.

"Huh? I am dressed."

"You look like a nerd. Come on."

It was an opportunity to back down graciously from a fight with Zechs. "All right, but no make up," I insisted.

Barton chuckled, but didn't promise anything. I used the walk to the room he shared with Winner to admire his outfit. He was dressed like a storm cloud in layers of shades of grey, sophisticated, sultry, and sluttish, all at the same time. No wonder his boyfriend couldn't keep his eyes off of him. Barton was unrecognizable as the deadly agent he was.

Winner volunteered to "fix" my hair with a hair dressing he used to tame Barton's bangs. "I should really trim it," he said apologetically, "but there isn't time. You still look like you. Here—" He handed me a pair of rose-tinted sunglasses. "See if these help."

"Helps? How will these help me see in a dark club?"

Winner frowned. "Don't be difficult."

"I'm not, I just don't understand."

"There may be any number of people there would might identify you from your face, which gets plastered on the cover of some magazine every six months."

"Not to mention that look of yours."

I looked sideways, eyes narrowed, unblinking.

"Heh, heh… Yeah, that one. The Yuy Piss-in-your-pants stare," Barton chuckled. "I don't think my pants fit you. I'm too tall. Stay there. I'll get one of Maxwell's. We'll go shopping later."

I wanted to stop him, but Winner's serious business face was on, and his hands were in my hair, the scissors too close to call. I let it go and put on the glasses. Not bad.

I was done. We collected Duo, who was wearing unrelieved "black as my mood" clothes, loose like he was about to fall out of them. All I could think about was how fast he could lose them then thought that every guy in the club would be thinking the same thing and nearly made him go back to change. Instead, I snatched the car keys and headed for the garage.

I ignored Duo and Barton until I pulled up into the parking lot of the club. I felt cheap wearing Barton's transparent white shirt, which showed my nipple ring, and slacks fitted tight across my ass, but when I looked over at my two friends, I couldn't help but salivate. They looked hot and on the prowl. I rolled up my sleeves and loosened a couple buttons.

On the outside, Club Oz actually looked like an old airplane hangar. Looking around at the other buildings lining the street, most of them abandoned and littered with refuse, I could tell that we were definitely going to be in a low-class dive. How appropriate, considering the name. I could hear the bass of the music pounding even before I turned off the rental car. Multi-colored lights flashed in the windows on the second level of the building and I was instantly having second thoughts about even showing up. Normal bars were one thing. But going into these hopping clubs where everyone is feeling up everyone else, I could do without.

"_Wing_?"

Duo's voice snapped me out of my thoughts, making me realize that it was time to go in. I looked over at him and let out a breath that I didn't realize I was holding.

"I'm sure you've done UC work before, right? Since the war...with Preventers?"

"Once."

That did not make him feel better, I was sure.

"No badge, no gun, nothing that can identify you as an agent."

"No gun?" I questioned.

"Not in there, not while trying to gain trust. It just looks bad if a target thinks you're afraid enough to carry one and it brings up unwanted questions."

I shook my head.

"_Wing_, you're just like everyone else when you're undercover. You don't get any special treatment and if you do something illegal, you can get arrested for it. You cannot claim that you are an agent and your other undercover agents, if you have a team, must be the only people you call."

"How have you stuck with this nasty job so long, _Scythe_? You don't really have all that much protection." I lifted the leg of my pants and removed the gun that I had holstered to my leg. I didn't unload it; instead, I slipped it under the car seat while Duo shook his head. "I'll take raids any day."

"I used to think I liked it, _Wing_, when I didn't have anyone. Now I just want a nice quiet desk job where I can shuffle papers around, knowing that I'm going home in one piece." He caught my shocked expression as he opened my door. "I'm not crazy. I know exactly who I am and who you are—all four of us. Are you ready?"

I nodded, still bewildered at his personality turnabout.

"Oh hey, _Wing_?" he called.

"What?"

"Absolutely no drugs for you. If I get something, I'll try to hold onto it, but I can't guarantee it. The serum we've been taking has failed in the past and I need you both with clear heads to watch my back."

"Thanks for trusting me," I said. I trusted him with my life.

"Watch me close, if I look funny to you, get me out of here. In the meantime, take inventory of the faces you see here tonight. If you recognize someone, catalog it."

"I know my job here, _Scythe_."

"This is serious shit, _Wing_. We're going into a strange place and dancing with a target. I don't want any mistakes and nothing to give us away." He slammed the car door. "I want to be able to walk out of here in a couple of hours knowing that our time here tonight wasn't wasted and that we have preserved our cover."

"Be sure you do your job, then," Barton put in although it was hard for me to tell if he was addressing Duo or me, not that it mattered.

"I'll be doing my best," I assured them both.

Barton nodded as we began walking towards the front door, and I hoped that my best was good enough for them.

We entered the club, sticking pretty close together at first. I was severely unimpressed with the club's clientele. I'd seen people at beaches wearing far more clothes than the ones here. Zechs had mentioned that the club wasn't strictly a gay club, but I had reason to believe that he was wrong. I had been groped by more men than I could count in a one-hour time period, and I could probably count on two hands the number of women in attendance. Barton soon veered away from me, promising to still stay close by.

Gunter and a few other men arrived at the club a little over an hour after we did. I'd managed to keep my distance from him thus far. I wanted to just watch him and see exactly whom he interacted with, but he seemed preoccupied with the door. Duo was only getting aggravated. He knew Gunter was waiting for him and hated it.

As I moved along the second story walkway, I locked eyes with Barton. He was on the ground level dancing with a guy that looked to me not old enough to even be in the club. Duo seemed to be more alert of his surroundings than he seemed aware of his dance partner. Good, I thought. I tapped my watch and indicated two hours. Before we'd separated we had agreed that once Duo decided to make contact with Gunter, Barton would try to help out in the sex department and then try to have him out no more than two hours later. I hoped to God that he was still paying attention by then. I was to keep an eye out for drugs and memorize faces, but mostly I was going to keep Duo in my sights for as long as I could.

As I headed down the stairs, I located Gunter's table and kept it in my line of sight. I ordered a beer from the bar and scanned the room. Another man approached Gunter. He didn't seem quite right; he seemed out of place. He was about fifty years of age, averaged build, and slightly balding. It wasn't his age that made him look out of place; it was the conservative attire. He looked like some high-class lawyer that had a hard time knowing how to dress down. He was wearing dark trousers, a white shirt and dark colored tie and a fucking plaid sports coat. He reached into the inside of his coat, bringing out what looked to be an envelope. I stepped back against the wall, allowing the shadows to hide my presence for a little while longer.

I pulled out my phone and dialed home. On the fifth ring, I was about to get pissed thinking Zechs and Winner had followed us anyway. Just as I was about to hang up, Winner answered, sounding out of breath.

"Hello?"

"Where were you?" I asked, trying not to sound accusing.

"I was just coming back in from the garage. I left my cell phone in Zechs' Jaguar after our last trip to the store. Why, what's up?"

I sighed heavily. "Is there any chance we can just stay near the phone all night, while I watch Gunter and _Scythe_?"

"Is that what you called for?" Winner chuckled, sounding rather amused. "You want my voice cooing through the phone to keep you company?"

"Um, no. I called because I want you to see if Club OZ has a system that you can hack into. I know they have security cameras, I just want to see if you can tap into them." I paused. "There is a guy that just handed Gunter an envelope, and I want to know who he is."

"I am not as good at hacking into all of that private surveillance equipment as Duo is, and he couldn't get a lock the last place, but maybe that was because they didn't have one. I don't know." He was silent for a moment. "I'll see what I can do."

"That's all I'm asking. I don't know how often they check the feed, but you should be able to worm your way in."

"Okay. I'll just go step by step like Duo showed me, starting with the phone line. If there is a security system there and if with any luck it's all tied in with the cameras, I should find it."

"Just remember that everything has a frequency and everything has a code. If you use my laptop, it will automatically try to bypass a lot of that, it shouldn't be as bad. I left it on next to the computer in the office."

"I got it, Heero. Yes, you've streamlined hacking to an art, I can tell. You worry me," Winner said, but his voice was more cheerful than concerned.

I watched as Gunter and the unidentified man seemed to be having a heated conversation. I realized that Winner had not said anything for a moment or two. "You are quiet."

"I'm on the computer, working."

"Okay, I've got to go."

"Heero?" he called out before I could hang up.

"Hn."

"They'll be okay, won't they?"

I could hear the nervousness in his voice, the uncertainty. Of course, he was worried about trauma to Barton's psyche as much as Duo's. I thought back to my conversation with Zechs and the others before we'd left. "Yeah, Winner, they are okay. I'll watch over them both. Barton is tough and clever."

"I-I know, but he's also daring."

"He's doing fine."

"Duo loves you, deep down, still."

"I know. Duo and I have just a crack in our foundation, but it can be easily filled if we work on it together."

"He will; I know it." He sighed. "That was a very romantic thing you said, too."

"Thanks," I laughed at his resolute positive attitude, as I watched the man of my dreams grinding it out on the dance floor with a complete stranger. "Try your hand at hacking and I'll protect our lovers. Deal?"

There was silence before he answered and by the tone of his voice, I knew he was smiling. He finally just said. "Yes."

My heart beat heavily in my chest, as if in anticipation of what was to come next. I needed to hold Duo and be reassured. It was as if when we were in each other's arms, everything else just faded away. I really needed more of that bond at this point and was sure by the time tonight's games were over I'd need Duo to myself in order to be able to sleep.

"I've got to go."

"Hurry home," Winner said, and then the phone went silent.

I reluctantly tucked the cell phone back into my pocket and found Duo stepping away from his dance partner and heading my way. I started towards Gunter's table. The older man got up after I'd only taken a few steps and disappeared into the crowd. I managed to put his face into memory, hoping that I could describe him to someone well enough to have a sketch drawn up, having my doubts about Winner's hacking skills.

Gunter looked toward the door again as Duo walked up behind him. With everything I had in me, I stilled the trembling of my hands, held my breath, and watched Duo reach out to cup Gunter's elbow.

"Hello, Alric."

"_Scythe_!" he exclaimed. "You came! What happened to you?"

I suspected that Duo had forgotten to call the man to let him know he'd show up tonight with a bruise and scratches from our little scuffle. Duo just shrugged. "I fell into a table...a few times."

Gunter reached up to touch his face, but Duo quickly backed away with a warning: "I don't think so buddy."

Letting his hand fall away slowly, Gunter nodded. "It looks like it hurts."

Duo cocked his head to the side, and said, "Ya think so?"

It sounded condescending when it came out, but this was all supposed to part of his game anyway. A game that I didn't really know how to play, but it was a game I was determined to win by supporting Duo anyway I could.

"What's going on tonight Alric?"

"I've been waiting for you, _Scythe_." Gunter slid back into the booth surrounding the table in a private little semi-circle.

"I know, and you haven't been paying attention," Duo said slyly.

"What...what do you mean?" Gunter looked at him, and then noticed me, casting me a curious glance.

"I've been here for over an hour—watching you," Duo said. He emphasized the last two words, making sure that he got the meaning, although, I wondered if Duo even knew what he meant himself.

"But you...? Why didn't you let me know you were here?"

It occurred to me that in most situations Alric Gunter was probably a very eloquent speaker. He was a man in control of many others. For some reason, though, he stuttered and fell all over his words when around Duo. I wondered if he was nervous of me, or if he was acting a part, too, and was afraid of slipping up and giving away too much information.

"Who is in charge Alric?" Duo snarled.

Gunter's nostrils flared and I wanted to both laugh and run. I wondered what this man would do with me if I attempted to dominate him in the manner Duo was. I say "attempt," because I didn't understand the complexities of how this dominant-submissive thing was supposed to work, even though Winner had assured me that I had a very intimidating, dominating personality.

"You are," Gunter finally whispered.

"And you have just answered your own question," Duo said, pleased.

Gunter nodded and stared everywhere around him except at me. He then turned in my direction. He didn't meet Duo's eyes as he asked, "Who's your new friend?"

"Another one of _Wind'_s assets."

The moment Duo said that I could see Gunter relax a little. Was I a threat to him, I wondered? Or was it he didn't like my shades?

"He came out of the accident in the best condition so I thought I'd bring him around and show him the high spots of our lovely city. This is _Wing_. _Wing_, meet Alric Gunter."

I did my best not to look too sure of myself. I knew that Wufei and I had not been chosen for the "slut recruit" positions because of our coloring and Asian looks, but I was dressed provocatively enough to catch any gay man's eye. I bowed slightly.

"Pleased to meet you, _Wing_. My, my, Zechs has excellent taste. You're not my type, but you are lovely."

The man's eyes roved over my body, making me feel like stinking fish in a fish market. I hated him intensely. And then, his attention shifted back onto Duo. I felt forgotten at once, and hated him more.

"Do you want to get out of here?" he asked Duo.

"Fuck no. You were insistent on calling me, telling me that you'd have close friends here with you, yet you're sitting here all alone. How about we dance?"

Instantly, I shoved down my repulsion and tensed. I would have to watch Gunter closely. He wanted Duo so profoundly the shock of it nearly knocked the air out of me. At that moment, I knew if he would use any means at his disposal to use Duo sexually, and without Zechs here protecting Duo he would feel free to do what he wouldn't have attempted otherwise. Duo strutted into the crowd of people, knowing that he would follow.

I felt Barton's presence near me and turned straight into him. He leaned forward and kissed me. I never imagined he would do that in a million years, even though he'd mentioned that he and I'd "get together" when convenient."Let's dance," he said.

The organ-jarring beat reverberated throughout the club. I hoped to hell that the building was to code and wasn't going to come crashing down around us. Barton slinked effortlessly through the dancers to take up positions near Gunter and Duo.

"Where are your friends?" Duo yelled.

Gunter smiled. "They're around."

"Come on, dance, _Wing,_" Barton insisted, pushing me into Gunter, who chuckled at my apparent clumsiness. Barton pulled me back, making a show of licking along my neck. I fought not to cringe and tried to act as though I enjoyed it. I had to keep reminding myself that this had been another part of the plan, mainly Barton's idea. He figured that if things got sexual, it could easily become a foursome alleviating some of the trauma it would cause Duo. I wanted to agree, but knew that no matter what happened, the trauma was already there and wasn't going away. Still, I had come to see Barton's interference in the game as a plus. I placed my hand flat on his chest as I stepped around him and gave him a lascivious grin.

"Sure, _Tamer_, let's dance, but you take _Scythe_ and I'll take Alric."

I shot a glance at Gunter and noticed that he was both pissed and excited. Duo had basically had him on his knees at the party, and now Duo and I were on equal ground, with Gunter becoming the low man on the totem pole.

"Why the look Alric?" I smiled.

Duo stepped up and whispered in my ear, which I'm sure looked like more to Gunter. "Now step off, let him play a little, then knock him down. But give him time to actually think he's getting somewhere, just be calm."

I nodded and kissed his lips, which was the first thing that felt right all day, and then Duo stepped back and moved to Gunter's side, teasing him, just as it had appeared that he had done to me.

I watched Gunter becoming aroused by Duo's actions. When Gunter looked at me, he met my eyes, or would have if I hadn't been wearing shades to disguise them, chewing his lip in indecision. Reaching his hand out tentatively, he placed his hand on Duo's chest and let his thumb graze one of his nipples, the one with the matching piercing to mine. I summoned up every bit of courage I had, shoved back the desire to snap the man's head off, and stepped closer to him. His hand trailed down to Duo's hip and mine slipped to my non-existent gun. He then closed the space between them and licked a long, wet line up Duo's neck.

He nipped him playfully on the ear, and asked, "Want to play my game for a while?"

Duo swallowed hard as one of Gunter's hands cupped his balls and squeezed, the other tracing a path around his back, and suddenly yanking on Duo's braid. Duo opened his mouth to shout, and there was a finger in his mouth. I moved to stop that hand, but I was too late. Duo's face twisted a moment as he tasted something bitter. He pulled away, and spat onto the floor. His eyes met mine in terror; whatever it was, some of it had already dissolved. I panicked, not knowing what effects the drug would have, and knowing I couldn't identify it. Barton swept a handkerchief from out of nowhere and wiped at the spot on the floor, then pocketed the only sample we might get.

"Oh fuck," Duo whispered.

Gunter looked at him and grinned. "I sure hope so."

I took a deep cleansing breath, hoping that latest the serum injections Duo had had would alleviate his reaction. Gunter's hands started moving over Duo's body. Duo clenched his teeth, letting him. Barton narrowed his eyes as I attempted a casual shrug. I knew that if I didn't calm down, I would only make things worse for Duo.

Duo's hands snaked around Gunter's chest, teasing him as he looked at me. They seemed to move so fluidly over Gunter's body that I could not hold Gunter's gaze. I felt like some kind of snake being lulled into a dance by the rhythm of the charmer and imagined that Duo must be feeling much the same. He was giving me a good look at his eyes. They were dilating already.

Gunter's face was inches from Duo's for an instant then they were kissing. I closed my eyes. I couldn't stand it. When my eyes opened against my will, there was Duo, letting that man's kiss drift down from his chin further onto his pale throat. I didn't know how Duo could stand that man's hands and lips on him.

I felt arms around me from behind and then someone nipping at my ear, registering Barton's touch before jamming an elbow into his gut. The sensations were almost overwhelming as I leaned into the body pressing close to mine. Barton's voice echoed through my mind. "Help _Scythe_ fight it, _Wing_-boy."

His head was turned to Duo. "Hey, _Scythe_, man. Fight back. You've got to stay clear-headed."

"Fight what?" Duo whispered. "I'm fine."

"I don't think you're fine," Barton said. "I see an awful quick reaction."

Gunter winked at Barton and me as he grabbed Duo by the hand, pulling him through the mass of gyrating bodies. They stopped in the middle of the dance floor and began dancing. I saw Duo's wide and unblinking eyes scanning for me, turning back in the direction from which they'd come. When he realized that he couldn't see me, his face turned back, squinting as he tried to concentrate on Gunter when an overhead strobe suddenly flashed on and off.

I tried to move toward him, but the crowd was tight. I spotted Duo dancing and in a flash of light, he was gone. There was Barton, so I launched myself after him. Flash! Gunter, his arms wrapped around Duo's neck, was kissing him, and Duo didn't object. Duo leaned in for more. Flash! Gunter's hands roamed over my love's beautiful body, feeling the hard muscle under the veil of his clothing.

Oh, Duo! I knew he felt so wonderful, so toned under those concealing clothes. Gunter was a handsome man, but his steel gray eyes were dishonest, calculating. Having him close to Duo was wrong; everything about the man himself was just wrong. But, Duo was past the point of caring. Drugs were coursing through his system beyond his control making him act as if he wanted that creature in his arms, and, worse, want what he had to offer.

Barton ducked and jumped. It was a sudden sharp movement that looked like part of a dance in the chopped vision under the flashing light. The next moment, the strobe light exploded. A hail of broken glass fell on the dancers beneath as a glass shattered the bulb. No one noticed. Someone laughed. The music boomed. I nearly ran over Barton. He reached up, wiped the sweat from my brow, and smiled before pulling me down close to yell something in my ear. I didn't exactly catch it all, but I heard "fuckin' light...away from the music" and that was enough to do it for me.

I followed him into a room off to the side just in time to see Gunter closing another door quickly. With the door closed there seemed to be a barrier from the noise. The room was quite a bit cooler than the rest of the club and I was thankful. I stood for a moment, leaning my back against the door, and then my brain kicked in.

"Gunter has Duo alone. I saw him go into a room."

Barton regarded me a moment. "Damn, I thought he came this way, but then I lost sight of him. He's managed to get him alone after all."

We dashed out and I pointed out the other door where I'd seen Gunter. The door was closed but yielded against our combined weight. Barton stuck his head in through the opening.

"Damn it, _Scythe_. You said _Wing_ and I could join in."

I caught on to what Barton was doing, but I could tell that Duo's brain was fuzzy. He looked confused, probably because he didn't remember telling us anything of the sort. Barton started pushing his way into the room before Gunter could respond. I added my weight and pressed in behind to keep the advantage.

Duo looked at us, shaking his head. He had to blink a few times to clear his eyes, but he caught on. His striking violet-blue eyes were dark pools, which on closer inspection were really dilated by the drug, the irises nearly absent.

"Well, then, get your asses in here," Duo said to us. "Join the party."

End, It's Back to Work, Chapter Twelve


	20. It's Back to Work Chapter 13

**DEFYING GRAVITY**

Part Two: It's Back to Work

**Chapter Thirteen**

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Gundam Wing or its characters, nor do I make any monetary profit off this story.  
Warnings: 1x2x1, 3x4x3, AU, yaoi, some language, drug abuse, explicit scenes

--Kaeru Shisho 5/28/2007 Duo's POV for this chapter where more plot is revealed.

* * *

Welcoming _Tamer_ and _Wing _into the room where I'd found myself alone with Gunter—that was about the last thing I remembered that was at least halfway clear. I figured waking up in my own bed pretty much meant that things were still okay, or at least I hoped they were. Without opening my eyes, I knew I was at our home in New Germany. The feel of my bed and the smell of our house was instantly familiar to me. 

I was afraid to open my eyes. My head felt like someone had used it for batting practice, and I was afraid that once the sunlight hit my eyes that my headache would be much worse. Still, even with my eyes closed, I could tell that there was no sunlight in the room. I cracked them slowly so just a slit of light could stab my brain, but the room was dark. I could barely see in front of me, and the room was freezing cold.

Next, I severely needed to take a piss. I tried to grab the sheet at my hips, but my body felt like lead. I lay there resigned to not moving at all, while knowing that I absolutely had to get up.

"Ugh…." My whole body screamed in pain as I tried to sit. I groaned and wilted back onto the pillow. Waking up like this didn't make any sense. One more time with an accompanying moan and I finally managed to sit upright on the edge of the bed with my feet flat on the floor—a major effort resulting in major head pain. I was unable to do anything except sit and try to keep myself from falling over.

"How do you feel ?"

Mill's voice broke the silence of the room. I searched the room for the source of that voice. I looked to his side of the bed and then around the room, but no familiar figure could I see.

"_Wind?_"

He chuckled. "Yes, last time I checked."

"I knew it was you, asshole. Where the fuck are you and why it was so fucking dark in here?"

I said this while standing up, but to balance upright I had to concentrate solely on finding my center. When I was sure of myself, I plodded at step at a time, heading for the bathroom, and not waiting for an answer.

"I was in the chair in the corner," Mill called out to me. "Don't open the door to the bathroom. Just wait and let me help you."

"Why?" I asked, pausing at the door. "I'm not imagining two functional arms and two good legs, am I?"

"No, your limbs are just fine, but we didn't cover the windows in there. When the sunlight hits your eyes, it's really going to hurt. Whatever drug Gunter gave you is still in your system and your eyes are stuck on full dilation."

Mill's arm slipped around my waist, comforting me instantly with his touch. His velvety voice hummed in my ear.

"Just close your eyes and let me guide you."

He led me into the bathroom and stopped me in front of the toilet. He reached around to help me, but I stopped his groping hands.

"Um, _Wind,_ baby. I don't think your hand on my dick is going to make it very easy for me to take a piss." I heard him laugh and I just groaned. "Not funny. I really, really gotta piss. Just cover the window with something so I can open my eyes. I don't want you to have to clean up the floor."

"Excuse me?" He chuckled more and turned me around. "Your attempt at humor is severely lacking, my love. Sit."

"Sit?"

"Yes, sit, piss, and don't open your eyes." He laughed again as I felt my way to sit down. "I'm going to find something to put over the window. Don't get your dick wet. I'm not fond of toilet water."

"Ha, ha," I grumbled.

"I know it's a stupid question just considering how you look now, but how do you feel?"

By the sound of his voice I could tell he was across the room at the window. I sighed and leaned forward resting my elbows on my knees.

"I feel like hammered shit. My whole body is sore, but my head fucking hurts. This is so much worse than the stuff I drank."

He was quiet for a few moments. "Okay, open your eyes very slowly. It's dark in here but not completely. Let's see if your eyes can adjust."

I opened my eyes slowly, and tried to quell the waves of nausea washing over my brain when the pain in my eyes got worse. We just sat there while I adjusted. When I figured I wasn't going to up-chuck, I stood, fixed my sweatpants

"Um?"

"Yes?"

"The serum didn't work shit," I said, trying to lighten the air.

"You noticed that did you?" He laughed and patted my back. "We need to get some fluids in you."

I could do nothing more than close my eyes and nod my head in agreement. He took my hand.

"Come on. Let's get you back to bed. I've got a ton of water and Gatorade with your name on it."

"Hate gatershit."

He tugged on my hand and I reluctantly followed. When we got back to the bed, I slid in and lay flat on my back.

"What happened last night?"

Mill sat down on the edge of the bed. He handed be a bottle of water and I sat up long enough to drink over half of it. He put the lid back on the bottle and pulled the sheet up over my hips. He let the back of his hand caress my cheek and smiled.

"Later, right now just try to rest."

The pain in my head stopped any and all thoughts of arguing with him. I reached over and took his hand.

"Will you lay with me awhile?"

He squeezed my hand. "I can't, babe. I'm about join a conference call with Chang Wufei. Apparently, he led a team that snagged a drug transfer at a warehouse in Belgium. Drugs were hidden in a very large statue."

"Sounds like Gunter's shit. Give me a few minutes and I'll be ready."

I started to get up only for Mill to push me back.

"No," he said firmly. "This is where you need to be. I promise to fill you in later. I won't be gone long. _Wing_ is going to stay and keep an eye on you."

I shook my head. Shooting pain was my reward. "I don't need _Wing_, let him go with you."

"Duo," he said quietly. "If it weren't for him..."

He stopped and I looked at him closely. "I didn't say I wouldn't want him here, but he should be in on Wufei's call. I'm not going anyplace." I remembered Heero's face at the club. He looked pale, ill. "How was he when he came home last night?"

"He was worried sick because he chose to bring you back here instead of the hospital."

I chuckled. "It surprises you that he brought me here? He reset his own bones during the war."

Mill nodded slowly. "There's a lot more to Heero Yuy than most people will ever know about." He brought my hand to his lips and placed a kiss in the middle of my palm. "We don't know what the hell the drug was last night, but it almost killed you."

"Well, damn."

He leaned down and kissed me softly on the lips. "I promise we'll talk when I get back. Rest, and be sure to drink a lot of water and some of that Gatorade. It's all in a small cooler beside the bed, promise me?"

"Yeah," I whispered. My energy was spent and I was winding down.

Mill nodded and got from the bed. He paused when he got to the door and I closed my eyes to avoid any light that would come through. When he closed the door behind him, I rolled over and drank the rest of the bottle I'd started and opened another, draining it completely as well. I grabbed a bottle of Gatorade, took a few sips and shuddered at the taste. The sweetness of it made me instantly nauseous. I lay back and closed my eyes, sinking back into the comfort of the bed. I was sinking back into la-la land, when I detected Heero's distinctive footfalls.

"Hey, 'Ro. How's it going?" I muttered.

"Duo, how do you feel?" he asked.

"Bad. I told Mill not to send you in. Wufei probably needs you, too."

"I already talked to Chang. I'm where I need to be, now."

"Oh, ah, well… sweet. So, what happened?"

"Do you remember anything?"

"I remember pretty much everything up until the point where you and Tamer shoved the door open against me. I mean, there are some blank spaces there, but I think I remember the major points." I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the board. "Was it bad?"

"You know, even during the war, when you were holding a gun to me, I've never once been afraid of you since we met, but last night, you scared the crap out of me. I think Gunter would have shit himself if you'd allowed him to do it." Heero's expression grew serious. "I don't know what he gave you, but it threw you for a loop."

I watched as he got the cuff out of his bag and began checking my blood pressure. He aired it up and I waited for him to finish before he spoke.

"Good. You're blood pressure is finally in the normal range and I haven't had to dope you up all day."

I just nodded, hoping that he would continue. He did.

"I've given you several dozen doses of Narcan to help reverse the ill effects if it was a narcotic drug. While we don't know what the drug was, it seemed to be opiate-based. You were okay health-wise at the club until close to the end, when you began slurring really bad and drooling. Trowa and I got you into the car and then realized that you were having a bad trip, but we were already almost home. I had an OD kit here and knew that if things went really bad, at least I could keep you alive until we got you to the hospital."

Heero took out a penlight and held it up to my eyes, shining it first in one and then the other.

"Keep going, 'Ro. I think you're far from being finished," I prodded.

"Your blood pressure was down one minute and up the next, your pupils were dilated and pretty much fixed that way until now, you were vomiting everywhere, barely breathing, you had the shakes and your body was burning up. Every time we'd try to get fluids back in you, you'd throw them up."

He dropped the pen into the bag and climbed onto the bed beside me.

"The Narcan eased a lot of that and we were able to get some fluids in you, mostly Gatorade."

His hand felt warm as he rubbed his thumb over my palm. Just the mention of Gatorade turned my stomach, though. I groaned.

"Is that why I can barely stand to hear that word?"

He chuckled, "Probably."

"So how about at the club," I asked. "How far did I go?"

Heero was very quiet for a moment. "It wasn't that bad, as such..."

I pulled my hand away and grabbed Mill's pillow, clutching it to my chest. "Go on."

"You were pretty sexually uninhibited, and you were mean. So fucking mean, I doubt Gunter will want to ever see you again."

When he stayed quiet, I prompted him. "Come on, I want to hear about this before Mill gets back."

"He already knows," Heero whispered.

"Please, tell me that I did not fuck that monster," I said, choking up as tears burned my eyes at the thought alone. "Did I?"

"No, not really," he said. "You came onto him quite a bit, gave him one of the roughest blow jobs I've ever known of, and then you made him beg to touch you. When he finally did... um… That man will have a sore throat for a while." He sighed heavily. "Every time I tried to intervene, you threatened to cut my balls off and feed them to me. I wholeheartedly believed you. I had no doubts that you'd have done just that. I just wanted to make sure that nobody got fucked and if someone had to, it would have been me, although Trowa was ready to step in as well. There's no way you could have ever lived with yourself for fucking him it that condition."

Easing myself back down on the bed, I lay on my stomach, clutching my pillow in my arms. "I'd never be able to live with myself for fucking anyone besides you, 'Ro." I twisted my head around and looked up at him. "I was essentially a virgin when I met you and I plan to keep it that way, but _Scythe_, he's not so indiscriminant. I didn't want you here to see this, or him."

"Says my beautiful lover," Heero said softly.

"Talking about me?"

I turned the other way to find Mill standing at the open door. There wasn't much light coming in and I realized that it had to be late in the day.

"No." Heero stepped away from the bed. "I'll go get take-out for dinner, and we'll all talk later."

I was with them and then not. "Hey, _Wind_," I said to the tall blonde Adonis as my eyes started to close.

_"Yeah, there's some scars inside, some on the outside. However, I can see no flaws on you. In my mind, in my eyes, in my heart, you are the absolute image of perfection." _

_I regarded him intently. "Come on, don't lie."_

_ "It's true. "I'm not picking and choosing parts of you to love. I love all of you, regardless of what you think. What you see as scars and imperfections, I see as beauty. When I look at these marks I see courage. I see bravery. I see Preventer's agent and a man that believed in what he was doing and put his life on the line to get monsters off of the street. I see battle scars of a man that did what he had to do in the war and came through fighting. I see the man that I love, more than anyone or anything else in this world. There is so much that I see in these marks on your body. Don't you ever say that I don't love all of you because I might just love what you see as imperfection a whole lot more than the rest of you."_

_He lay there looking up at me as if uncertain, his eyes full of tears. He opened his mouth and closed it again. I shifted my body again and freed his left hand as I moved over him, and kissed his lips firmly, forgetting about my pain. Pulling away to look into his eyes, I smiled._

_"Have I gotten my point across?" he asked._

_"Yeah," I nodded and started to speak, but he pressed a finger to my lips. "No more words. If at any time after you want to stop, just say so. But other than that, no words, just you and me."_

_"Let me--" I began._

_"Okay."_

_I let my tongue wander across his torso, tracing the cut and defined lines of his abs. When I came to the waistband of his boxers, I grazed my tongue along it before taking it in my teeth and pulling them down. I worked them down his hips and halfway down his thighs before pushing them down further with my hands. I nuzzled my face into his chest, inhaling his every scent. He was mostly smooth over his entire upper body by nature's handiwork._

_ I let my tongue roam over him. I moved on down to the inside of his left thigh, loving the feel of the texture of his hair on my tongue. His legs were covered in a light, but gorgeous dusting of hair. I worked my way down his thigh and stopped at the bend of his knee only to hear him breathe a sigh of contentment as my tongue continued to tease him. I kept on until I reached his foot, kissing the arch and working my way back up his leg, the same way I came down. I repeated the gesture on his right._

_I realized that by his breathing, and small grunts, he was getting close to coming, and began to help him up. He looked at me curiously and I only smiled. I positioned myself in the middle of the bed on my knees and helped him turn as if sitting on my lap with his back toward me. With his legs on either side of mine, I pulled him against and pressed my lips against his neck and began kissing across his shoulder and down the middle of his back._

_He shifted his hips as he clenched his muscles, shifting enough for me to enter him. I teased him for a few moments as he moved, trying to build his desire. When I could no longer stand it myself, I shifted my hips with him the next time he did, and gained entrance, sinking myself into him in one smooth motion. I waited as he adjusted to me, wanting to curse because he was so hot and so tight around me. When his muscles rippled, I had to grit my teeth and concentrate. When I was in control of myself, I began to move, using my knees to lift._

_His hands dropped to my hips and began pulling me deeper as we joined together. I pressed myself as close to him as our bodies would allow and dropped my hands to his thighs, pulling him into me. We moved together in a rhythm, his grunts and groans became more intense. He let out a loud cry. _

_That was all it took for me. I cried out as I poured myself into him. He moaned and then sighed, smiling as he broke away. I wrapped my arms around him and nipped his ear. _

_"I love all of you," he whispered._

_I was silent for a moment and then let my body relax against his. His skin golden tan and chest hard. I fingered the nipple-ring that matched mine. _

_"I know."_

I must have fallen asleep and had the hottest dream ever, because when I woke up it was dark and I could see light from the hall and felt completely whacked. I'd had an incredible dream, and was relieved it hadn't been a nightmare and that it had featured Heero in the starring role. However... I'd not had a thing to eat, was starving and felt grungy. I felt worlds better after a shower. I cleaned and brushed out my hair, then hunted for something to eat.

As I passed by, I saw Heero in the office. He put a hand over the mouthpiece and said, "Chang. Important."

So, he was going over information with Wufei over the phone. I gave him a "thumbs up" and moved on down the hall, content to have nothing to do with the case for the next few hours. I'd had about all I could stand, and was disgusted with what I'd done. Not necessarily with Gunter, but I was disgusted with how I'd acted and how especially I'd treated Heero. Heero had shrugged it off, but I could still see the fear of me in his eyes. Fear and disappointment. I should be doing this alone, I kept thinking, but now it was too late.

I grabbed a banana, peeled it, and ate it on the way to check out the movie. Mill was camped out on the couch, watching a movie. I slid in next to him, closed my eyes, and rested my head against his shoulder. I wondered about but didn't ask about Quatre. I breathed a sigh of contentment and in the next second, the doorbell rang. I figured that it as probably Trowa, who probably had been baby-sitting across the street, and, if it was, I was going to be very happy. He'd promised to come over if he got any information on the drug I'd been slipped. I got up from the couch, not bothering with a shirt, and walked over to the door. I opened it swiftly in my sudden good mood.

I opened the door and froze.

Someone had rung the doorbell, but now no one was on the other side of the door. I scanned the area in the front of the house, the house across the street, and up and down the street. As I started to walk back into the house, I heard a rustling sound from behind the decorative shrub close to the door. I took the three or four steps it took to get to the shrub and stopped beside it. I moved the shrub apart with my hands and as I peered down, came face to face with a child.

I practically broke the shrub in half as I fumbled trying to get hold of him. I didn't know who he was, only that he was half-naked and had bruises covering one side of his face. He was crying and shaking. I spoke quietly to him as I picked him up, telling him that he was safe and I was only going to help him. I stepped quickly into the house and closed the door, locking it behind me. Holding the boy in my arms protectively, I turned to go into the living room.

Mill's eyes grew wide as he looked at me. He got up from the couch as quickly as he could and walked over to us. He grabbed a blanket from the back of a chair and wrapped it around the boy, pointing towards the couch.

"Put him over there."

I sat him down on the couch and pulled the blanket around him. Kneeling before him on the floor I asked, "Are you okay?"

The boy nodded and curled up even tighter inside of the blanket. He couldn't have been more than twelve years old. Mill sat on the couch beside him.

"Can you tell us where you came from?" Mill asked.

The boy shook his head slowly. Mill looked up at me. "Hey, Duo, why don't you go get your shield?"

I got up and headed towards the bedroom. I opened the closet and dug way into the back getting my Preventer's ID from the hidden panel in the wall. I was practically shaking as I walked back into the living room with it. Handing it to Mill, I knelt down on the floor on the other side of the boy. Mill folded it back, showing the boy my Preventer's ID badge.

"Do you know what this is?" he asked.

The boy just stared at it, unmoving. Mill waited, giving the boy a chance to think, I guess. He went to open his mouth to speak, but the boy's shaky voice made him stop. "Policeman."

He looked up at me and just stared and by the haunted look in his eyes, I just knew where he'd come from. I took my ID card from Mill and held it out to the boy.

"My picture is right there on the other side. You can hold onto that as long as you want to, okay?"

The boy nodded and looked down at the shield. I gave him a few minutes before I spoke again. "This man's name is Mill, and my name is Duo. Can you tell me your name?"

"Pascal."

"Can you tell me your last name, Pascal?" I asked.

He fidgeted around and the couch, his fingers toying with the long chain attached to my shield. "I want to go home," he said.

He then began crying and sobbing again. I looked up at Mill who mouthed for me to just be patient and not to push. He leaned over, getting Pascal to look at him. "I've got some cookies if you'd like to have them with milk. I'll leave you alone here with Duo if you feel more comfortable talking to him that way."

In the midst of his cries, Pascal nodded. I waited for Mill to leave the room before I said another word. "Pascal, let me tell you what we're going to do, okay?"

When he nodded, I continued on. "If you can tell me your last name, we can call your mom and dad and let them know that you're okay. We'll get you out of here and you can be at home tonight. Does that sound good?"

"I can go home?" he asked.

"You sure can buddy," I said with a smile. "I'm sure your mom and dad are going to be so happy to see you."

"Gautreaux," Pascal said. "That's my name."

"Pascal Gow-trow is your name?" I asked, wanting to be sure. When he nodded a "yes," I let out the breath was holding. "That's good Pascal. I may have to ask you to spell that for me later, 'kay? My French sucks royal."

He smiled and I smiled back. "Um, I think I know where you came from tonight, but can you tell me so I can be sure?"

He looked up at me and looked down and I wasn't sure if he was going to answer. I shifted where I knelt, growing uncomfortable kneeling on the floor. Pascal looked up at me suddenly.

"He's going to find me."

"Who's going to find you?" I asked.

"I kicked him. I kicked him hard and I ran away. I went to a house and no one was there. I came here and pushed the button and when he came out of the garage, I had to hide."

"Pascal, it's really kind of important for you to tell me what house you came here from. We're going to get whoever hurt you and they're going to go to jail for a very long time. But I need you to help me out just a little bit. Okay?"

I paused as Heero came into the living room with a look of complete shock on his face.

"Duo?" Heero questioned. "Is something wrong?"

"You're the one in the office, Heero, didn't you see anything on the cameras?" I asked.

He shook his head. "I've got five different things going at one time."

I turned my attention back to Pascal. "This man's name is Heero and he's almost as good as a doctor. Can he take a look at your face?"

Pascal looked to Heero and then back to me before nodding. "My dad's name is Hiro," Pascal said with a slight smile.

Heero grinned. "Do you think we're long lost brothers?"

Pascal laughed and I stood up as Heero sat down on the couch beside him. There was an immediate sense of comfort that I saw in Pascal as he looked at Heero. I made my way over to the other side of the room where I could see Mill on the phone. He looked up and when his eyes met mine, I nearly broke into tears. I looked back into the living room where Heero and Pascal were talking quietly and Heero was checking the bruises on Pascal's face.

Mill came up behind me. "Winner overheard you talking to him. Pascal Gautreaux, eleven years old—missing for three months. He was taken from a bathroom at a restaurant, on his birthday. He's from Paris and Quatre is already getting his parents here."

"How far away is Paris?" I asked.

"It's about an hour and a half. It's eight now, so by ten at the latest, he could be back with his parents."

I nodded. "I'm going to go check the audio and video feed to see what's going on over there. If they've lost a child, it should be busy." I clarified, "_Trowa's_ there."

I left Pascal in Heero's hands. Quatre's voice I could hear from the guest room, probably on the phone, leaving the office to myself. I closed out the ID searches Quatre had left open and pulled up the camera feed from the garage and replayed the past hour. I went through each frame until I came upon Pascal's face. The boy had guts I had to give him that. The guy that he'd kicked in the balls was the one Trowa had pointed out as Strom Anton. Strom stood around five-foot eleven and weighed about two hundred pounds.

I used the cameras on both houses to follow Strom's search for Pascal. He gave up a whole lot quicker than I thought he would have and went inside the house. Switching to the inside camera, I came upon Trowa standing nervously in the middle of the living room. Strom was sitting on the couch rocking back and forth and I tried to pull up the audio to catch what was being said. The audio feed kept coming through full of static and I couldn't single out the voices.

Mill came into the room and shut the door behind him. "Duo, Gunter just drove up across the street."

I worked furiously trying to bring up the audio and finally got it patched through. "I figured he'd show up if Pascal was one of his. Can we get a warning call to Trowa?"

"No."

"I'm going over there."

"No!"

He stood behind me, gripping my shoulder to hold me in place, watching the video as I set the audio to a higher quality recording. After getting both feeds combined, I sat back and waited for Gunter to come into view. When he walked into the room, I did not miss the hateful look he projected at Trowa. Gunter was a man of business, and those who fucked with his business, obviously didn't live to tell about it. I watched the scene play out, but hardly any words were spoken. Gunter asked Strom what happened. Strom told him his side of the story and dropped to his knees begging for forgiveness. Gunter nodded, reached behind him, and in the next second produced a handgun and shot Strom right between the eyes. I closed my eyes and looked away.

Mill was apparently still watching because he began to say, "No, no, no."

I looked back to the screen and Gunter had the gun pointed at Trowa. He cocked the hammer back and I grabbed my cell phone from the desk. _He's ours you MF!_ I dialed Gunter's number quickly as I muted the audio feed, and watched as he answered his phone. My heart was hammering in my chest.

"What?!" Gunter snarled.

"Hello, Alric," I said, trying to sound calm. I would have done anything in that moment to get the gun lowered from Trowa, including a fake apology to Gunter.

"_Scythe_?"

"That would be me."

"What do you want?" His voice was still angry, but he slowly lowered the gun .

"If you're going to be pissy with me, I can hang up now," I said quietly.

"I'm sorry, _Scythe_. Things are just fucked up right now."

He walked over and nudged Strom's body with his foot. A few minutes later he put the gun back into the holster at his back and walked up to Trowa. He caressed Trowa's cheek and then pulled him into an embrace.

"Well, I just wanted to apologize if things got out of hand last night," I said. "I've apologized to _Wing_, and I figured you should hear it too. Um, I should say something to _Tamer_, too. Is he on his way back now that you're home?"

"Look, _Scythe_, whatever happened last night wasn't your fault. I'm not going to hold it against you. I'm kind of busy right now. Can I call you back later?"

"Whatever, Gunter, I was just calling when I had a moment alone. I may not have it later, but you do what you want to do." I meant to sound snippy.

I watched as Gunter said something to Trowa and in the next moment, Trowa walked out of the room.

Gunter sighed. "What about dinner tomorrow night, neutral ground, just you and me, no clubs, no music, just us?"

There was a slight knock at the door as it opened. I held the cell phone tightly to my ear. Heero stood holding Pascal's hand with a worried look on his face.

"Barton just called," he whispered as he held up his cell phone. "Gunter is taking Jimmy tonight."

End, It's Back to Work, Chapter Thirteen


	21. It’s Back to Work Chapter 14

**DEFYING GRAVITY**

Part Two: It's Back to Work

**Chapter Fourteen**

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Gundam Wing or its characters, nor do I make any monetary profit off this story.  
Warnings: 1x2x1, 3x4x3, AU, yaoi, some language, sting operation

--Kaeru Shisho 5/28/2007 Sticking with Duo's POV for this chapter as he gets a break for a change.

* * *

Gunter was taking the little boy? We had to get on that immediately. I had to get Gunter off the phone so we could start the extraction process rolling. I closed my eyes as I took a deep breath, and then returned to my call. 

"Dinner, nothing more."

Gunter laughed. "I won't be up for _more_ for a few days at least."

My stomach churned at the reminder of what I done to him. "Just call me back with the details."

"I'll have a full day tomorrow so it will probably be _Tamer_ who calls you," Gunter said. "I'll be needing him tonight."

"Whatever. Just make sure _Tamer_ gets back," I said as I hung up the phone.

I watched the monitor as Gunter stared at his phone for a few moments before putting it in his pocket. Heero came into the room and helped Pascal onto the futon beside Mill, handing the boy the milk and cookies he'd brought along. I caught Heero's unhappy looking eyes.

"Did _Tamer_ say where they were taking him?"

Heero shook his head. "No, only that Gunter is taking him and he just gave him the transmitter. Trowa sounded distressed. I've never heard his voice shake so much."

"He should be scared, he just..."

I stopped speaking as Mill looked up from where he sat beside Pascal and shook his head, nodding toward the boy. I realized that I could not tell Heero what had happened; I could only show him.

"Look at this," I said to Heero. "He has every right to be scared, but he's doing fine."

I turned the monitor so the screen wasn't visible from where the boy was sitting and backed the feed up, while Heero slumped over the back of my chair. I could hear the hitch in his breathing as I replayed the video for Heero.

"Can you take Pascal to meet his mom and dad?"

Heero closed his eyes for a moment and then nodded. "Yeah, you better call and get everyone set for Jimmy. Just make sure you and _Wind_ stay out of it."

I nodded. "Take Pascal and find him a shirt. I don't care what kind or whose, but get him something besides a blanket to cover him."

Heero returned to Pascal and held out his hand. Pascal took it immediately and went out of the room with Heero. Mill walked over to the desk and replayed the audio feed that I'd muted.

"I want to know what he said to _Tamer_ before he went out of the room."

As the audio replayed, we heard that Jimmy had a job to do. That made things considerably easier as far as getting Jimmy out of there. If all Gunter wanted was to take him with him, we'd be in trouble because we'd have no way to get him out without breaking cover.

"Hey, _Sand_, what'sup?" I shouted toward the figure passing by the door.

A minute later, Quatre returned and stood at the doorway. "I have arranged for the Maguanac Corps to accompany Pascal's parents to the airport and on a Winner Corp private jet. They will remain with them until we deliver their son."

Mill thanked him for his generosity, but Quatre shook his head. "It's the fastest and most discreet way. We don't need this leaking into the press."

"No, we don't."

"Cool, man, but that's not what I was calling you about," I said.

"Duo, I'm tired and worn out. I want to take a shower and wait for Trowa to get back then have some down time. If you're asking about anything else, I'm not interested," Quatre snapped and left the room.

I hopped up and chased after him. "Oh, yes, you are. We need a team and we need warrants. Get them and get them fast. Gunter just shot and killed one of his own men point blank and then turned the gun on Trowa and nearly killed him."

"No!"

"Come back and look at the feed."

While Quatre watched the horror play out on the monitor again, I told him the rest of what we'd learned. "I called Gunter and interrupted things. Trowa's fine; he talked to 'Ro. Gunter's going to need him, he's taking Jimmy with him saying he has a job to do, and since Trowa gave Jimmy the transmitter, as soon as Gunter is out of there, we are too."

Mill stood, stiffly, favoring one side still. "Quatre, we need a team set up and ready to hit wherever Gunter lands with Jimmy, and it needs to be completely legal." He sighed heavily. "I'm not losing this chance, if the local police can't handle this, then we must."

"Son of a bitch!" Quatre yelled. "I can't be in two places at once. Is Trowa still over there?!"

"Yes." Mill rubbed his temples, his faced etched in pain.

I stood and kissed Mill softly on the lips before I said anything else. "Give control over to _Sand_ for the team getting Jimmy out. Heero can take care of Pascal and his parents. You lie down."

"You are probably right; I can hardly think straight right now. "The four of you know how to work as a team." He met Quatre's eyes. "Winner, I trust you know what to do. I know you have the planning skills to do the job." He handed the phone to Quatre. "One last time, possibly."

"Yes, sir."

Quatre took the phone and began speaking to the local Preventer's field office as I rushed into the bedroom throwing on some clothes. If all went according to regulations, we would be trailing from a distance and we wouldn't even be involved with the team except by phone and radio contact. If Mill wasn't in charge, I wanted it to be Quatre. I was too emotionally involved and crippled when it came to making decisions about Jimmy. I knew in my heart that Quatre would do everything he could and that if a judgment call was necessary, he'd make it and it would be the right one. I also knew we could depend on Quatre's loyal Maguanacs to reunite Pascal with his parents, as promised.

I walked into the living room after getting dressed and smiled at Pascal who was now wearing one of our infamous black and grey Preventer's t-shirts. I looked over at Heero who was sitting beside him on the couch. "Leave it to you, to bring one of our official shirts."

Heero shrugged. "It was in the side panel of my bag. Just being prepared."

I knelt down in front of Pascal. "Looks like you're one of us now."

He nodded and handed my shield back to me. "Are you going to get the bad guys?"

"That's where we're headed right now." I said. "This handsome dude's going to take you to your mom and dad as soon as they get into town, okay? They will all probably have lots of questions for you, but you just answer them honestly and in your own time."

Mill's hand on my shoulder startled me. I had not even heard him walk into the room. "Are you ready?" he asked.

I rose slowly and pulled his head down for a kiss, a light, affectionate one. "Yeah, is everything set?"

Heero leaped up and blocked the way. "This is stupid. Your injuries are restricting your movements, and if Gunter spots that Jaguar, he'll know it's you and wonder why you are there. It could blow your cover. I am less recognizable. I should drive Duo in the car I've had rigged with some back up fire power. I'll keep a line open to Quatre and have greater technical skill if any hacking is necessary."

Mill sighed and nodded in agreement as he rubbed his bound ribs. "Even better point. It is my job to ensure the handover of Pascal to his parents goes well."

I nodded in agreement. "Okay, Pascal, I guess the big blond dude's going take you. That okay with you kid?"

Mill smiled and jangled his keys. "Pascal, have you ever ridden in a Jaguar before?"

The kid looked us in the eyes, questioning us silently. I was afraid he might have trust issues.

"You'll love the car," I said encouragingly.

Pascal grinned and turned to speak to Mill. "You mean a 2007 S-type?"

Mill smiled. "No…"

Pascal's face was glowing with excitement. "The XK?!"

"No, not the coupe, the XJ _sedan_."

"Oh, man! That's got a 4.2 liter V8 with a rear wheel drive drivetrain, 6-speed automatic transmission, and a price tag of $91 thousand dollars! I get to ride in one of those?!"

"Yep," Mill said, leading the way to the garage.

"Cool!" Pascal shouted, the cool car forming an instant bond of trust in his head.

No wonder it was so easy for the bad guys to kidnap these kids. Luckily, this time he was trusting the good guys. While Mill adjusted the Jaguar seats, Heero and I said goodbye to Pascal, who was clearly more interested in testing all the car's gadgets than in talking to us. Mill buckled him in, we waved, and they left.

Heero got into his car. He arranged his laptop within easy reach and sat immobile. I got in and contacted Quatre.

"Slight change of plans, _Sand_. _Wind_'s going to the airport with Pascal. Yeah, kid's cool with that. Whadaya mean? He's riding in a Jag! Anyway, _Wing_ and I are in the rental, waiting for you to tell us when to leave."

I felt Heero's eyes piercing my skull. "What?" I asked him. His expression was strange.

"Are you Duo or _Scythe_ right now," he asked.

"Does it matter?"

"Yes, Duo, it does. I am losing you a little more as each day passes on this job. I thought my being here would help…cement us, but now you have this…attachment for Zechs—"

"Attachment? Hell, _Wing_, aren't we all supposed to? He's more than just our fancy-ass pimp."

"That's true," he said, though, I don't think he meant it.

I guess he just needed reminding, being one of the newer recruits, then again, I hadn't told him about my dream; the one with him and me making love. What I said must have satisfied him, though, because he dropped the topic.

It was another ten minutes before Quatre stepped into the garage and tapped on my window.

"Gunter just left with Jimmy. The local agency contact is a junior agent called Prior," Quatre said. "He will have the open warrants."

"Thanks," I told him.

"I'll keep the house line open for calls from you. Trowa might try my cell." Quatre turned, hesitating a moment. "Be careful," he said before returned to the house.

Heero started the car and backed out of the garage. The first thing I did was call Prior.

"UC agents _Scythe_ and _Wing_ here. You really got open warrants for us?"

"We have a warrant to arrest anyone in possession of a boy named Jimmy and to search the residence in which he is found. We also got one with a lot of white space to fill in. That good enough for you?"

"Yeah, sure. Sometimes you get a judge that gives you everything you ask for in a warrant and other times you get a judge that doesn't know what the fuck is going on and would rather make things more difficult than they need to be."

"Just keep outta the way so I can get the job done," Prior tagged on before hanging up on me.

"Asshole," I grumbled.

Heero rolled the car down the street and just grunted. "Hn."

We followed Gunter from a distance. Jimmy's transmitter activated the moment he swallowed it, but the signal was too weak to pick up.

"500 feet is the best we could do in the time we had to develop the transmitter. Increasing the tracking distance required more power, which would make it too large for a child to swallow," Heero explained as he drove.

"Just keep back out of sight. I got a tracking device on the car a month ago which I should be seeing on one of these channels." I searched for the blip using Heero's laptop. "Maybe the thing got mud splattered or something. The signal comes and goes. Turn left."

"I will not lose them," Heero assured me.

"Wouldja get a look at the tony neighborhood. Whatcha wanna bet these houses start out in the million-dollar range? I guess with enough money, you can buy anything you want, huh?" I asked, shaking my head.

"Appears that way," Heero said.

He parked the car down the road from where Gunter turned into a gated entrance. I got out the binoculars so that I could see better and what I saw turned my stomach.

"Ah, damn. Gunter's leading Jimmy into the house with a chain around his neck."

"Picking up Jimmy's transmitter," Heero said.

I dropped the binoculars on my lap and looked at Heero, who was typing furiously into the computer and shaking his head.

"Is something wrong?"

He nodded his head. "Would you like to know whose house Jimmy is visiting tonight?"

"Someone you know?"

Heero turned the laptop so that I could see the screen. He'd traced the address. "The whole Italian Federation knows who Jimmy is visiting tonight."

I narrowed my eyes as I stared at the picture of the bald-headed man on the screen. "That's the guy from the club. The one I wanted you to try to get onto the system for."

"That was me trying to get Quatre to hack into the club security, not that it really matters," Heero corrected. "In any case, the security system was only on the doors for break-ins and the cameras were dummies. I think I recognize him, too. Are you sure this is the guy?" Heero asked.

"I didn't forget everything about that night," I snapped. "Who is he?"

"Get Quatre on the line." Heero cleared his throat. "_Sand_, I need ID verification. This is the address. Right, that's what I got. _Scythe_ says it's the same man we wanted ID'd, the one we saw at Club OZ."

"Who is it?!" I repeated.

"Thanks, ah, _Sand._" Heero hung up. "I wanted to make certain. That man is Count Franco Giopinno, known better as parliamentary representative Frank Georgio of the Forza coalition."

"Holy shit!" I exclaimed. "A fucking Italian government official? What now?"

Heero shrugged. "We arrest him and take him in, just like anyone else. Get Quatre back on the phone, while I call agent Prior. We still have to wait for Gunter to leave."

To say that Quatre was shocked to discover whose house were were watching would have been an understatement. He informed me that a local constable would be making contact with us before we went in and to wait for them. I didn't like having to wait on the local constabulary or some stupid junior agent for anything and I told Quatre that I would not fuck this up by waiting. As soon as I got off of the phone with him, Gunter left the house, and my cell phone rang again.

"Hello, _Scythe_ here."

"This is Agent Bauer, am I speaking to _Scythe-Wing_?"

"Yeah, you are," I said, "both of us. Who are you with?"

"Preventer's local here. A man named _Sand_ called me after you notified him of what was going on. We're going to let you guys handle this since you've done so well so far and since the players involve your main target. Just don't fuck it up."

I wanted to reach through the phone, yank Mr. Pompous Asshole through and shove my boot up his ass.

"No offense, Bauer, but everything that the Preventer's junior office has gotten their hands on there's been a fuck-up or two. It's like you guys just can't help yourselves. You just sit back and watch while our guys do your work for you. You know, if you guys had gotten off of your asses six months ago, Jimmy would have been out of there a lot sooner."

"I could say the same about the two of you for the past two months. I guess you've been too busy fucking to do anything else."

"Your ass is mine Bauer." I tossed the phone in the seat and looked over at Heero, who was staring at me like I'd sprouted a third head. I shrugged. "What?"

He shook his head and went back to his conversation with Prior. A few minutes later, he hung the phone up and laughed. "Klaus Bauer is the Preventer's Agent in Charge down here, Zechs' equal at least. Prior probably reports to the man. No one talks to him the way you just did. He's probably fuming right about now that he can't get his hands on you."

I cocked my head to the side. "He shouldn't have presumed that we'd fuck things up." I winked at him. "Or that we've been fucking instead of doing our job."

"He _said_ that?" Heero asked, as if shocked.

"Yes, he _said_ that," I said. "If he doesn't pull his head out of his high and mighty ass, I'm going to show him just what I mean about his ass being mine. What are we waiting on?"

"I'm waiting on a call from Winner, to give the go ahead. He's coordinating all the teams right now. The guys are taking up position around the house as we speak." He squeezed my hand tightly. "He's going to be okay."

I knew he meant Jimmy would be okay. "Send them in, _Sand_, and bring that boy out of hell," I muttered.

I grabbed the binoculars but had a hard time looking through them as tears flooded my eyes. We'd been waiting on this moment for so long. I held my breath as Heero took the phone call on the first ring.

"Hn. Okay, thanks, _Sand_."

"He's buzzed Prior with the go ahead."

We watched as the team entered the house. It wasn't like any other raid I'd been involved with before. This one was so very quiet, that I had to listen carefully to everything that was going on. About five minutes after the team had gone in, Prior's voice crackled through the radio. "We've got a problem."

"What's going on, Prior? Your camera is off," Heero said, sounding a bit aggravated. "It's no good if I can't see. Turn it on, Prior, and show me."

"Shit," Prior cursed.

A few moments later, his camera came on and the image filling the screen will haunt my memories for the rest of my life. Count Franco Giopinno was half-naked and backing away from the agents in the room, holding onto Jimmy tightly, with a gun pressed to the side of his head. The look in Jimmy's eyes was even more haunting. He didn't seem scared, he seemed eager, as if he was ready for it all to end.

"No, no fucking way," I whispered.

I turned around and reached into the back seat of the truck. Lifting up the seat, where I knew Heero stowed his sniper kit, I pulled out a vest, a hood, and a rifle. I slipped the vest on and turned to Heero, expecting him to argue, daring him to tell me to stay put.

"Just hold, Prior." Heero switched lines. "Catch that visual, _Sand? _Understood." Heero returned to Prior's line. "Try to talk to the count. _Scythe_ is on his way." Heero pulled me close to him. "Go get him and keep the team alive—you included."

"You're going to let me go?" I asked.

"I trust you, and so does _Sand,"_ Heero said with a smile. "Besides, it's just a rich old man with a gun."

"I love ya, Heero." I kissed him softly and rested my forehead against his for a few moments. "Watch my back."

"Take this other radio. Prior's on #1; I'm on #2; _Sand'_s on #5." Heero chuckled and added, "Go, baka."

I didn't have to be told again. I slipped on my hood as I exited the car and made my way to the house, skirting the shadows. The front door was clear, so I entered and headed quietly up winding staircase. Prior shifted and leaned against the door.

His voice came quietly through the radio. "Oh good, Agent Superhero is here. What can you do that we can't?"

"Shove your attitude back up your ass, Prior, and just talk to the count. Your job is talking to him, not to me. I'll let you know when I'm settled." I sighed heavily. "I'm a last resort."

Prior shifted again and I ignored him as I turned and made my way back down the stairs and out of the house. I keyed the radio as I jogged across the street.

"There's not a good place for me there. I'm heading to the house across the street."

Heero's voice came through the static. "Do what you need to in order to get a good position."

I ripped off the hood and tossed it to the ground figuring it was just one more aggravation I didn't need distracting me., then studied the surrounds. The house across the street had a beautiful roof for playing on. There were several levels of the three-story house that I could choose from, but a dormer on the second story was absolutely perfect. By the time I climbed up there though, I was cursing myself for being so damned out of shape. Too much clubbing and drugging and not enough running and working out. It had been quite a while since I'd lifted my own ass up so far, and vacationing on a couch most of winter with a bum leg had softened me up.

I lay down with my rifle and got comfortable before I started looking through the scope. I cranked the volume back up on the radio to notify Heero of my status first.

"In position, holding." I gave him a precise location.

"Hn."

Next, I called out to Prior, wanting him to fill me in on what was happening.

"He thinks he has some kind of immunity from criminal prosecution because he's a representative," Prior said. "Where did you go?"

"I'm watching," I said.

"_Wing_, has _Sand_ got locals on the way?" I asked. "I can't get his line up on this radio thing."

"Yes, they are already on the ground, heading toward your location. They're going to move everyone away from your immediate vicinity. I don't see Gunter or _Tamer_. Their car pulled around back. _Sand _notified everyone not to arrest or hold them. That's for later." He broke away. "Can you see your target?"

Prior keyed the radio a few times and I peered through the scope. I could see him directly in front of the count on the other side of the room. I keyed my radio. "Do not stand directly in front of the target. Move away from the window."

"He's talking, stand down," Prior said.

I lay there in position and watched the scene as it unfolded across the street as I listened to the locals moving people out of and away from the house I was on. One of them must have been from the constabulary. I wished now that I'd contacted him earlier. It would have been nicer to talk to him than Prior.

Heero's voice came through the radio telling me that the area was clear, and I relaxed even more. Thirty minutes after Prior's statement to stand down, his voice came back through the radio. I could see the count with the gun pointed at his own head.

"Take the shot, but just wound him if possible. The boy is clear," Prior said.

I raised my eyebrows at that. I don't shoot to wound; I shoot to kill. Still, to see the bastard's face making front page news as the biggest pervert on the continent, well, the thrill of killing him wouldn't compete with the joy of ruining his life.

I turned off the radio so I wouldn't be interrupted. I could see the count's finger outside of the trigger guard and instead of aiming at the man, I set my aim for the gun. I shot and the gun flew in pieces from his hand. I could see agents moving toward him from across the room. Prior stepped up to the window, his fingers examining the perfect hole in the glass. He was staring my way and pointing to his radio, so I turned my back on.

"What now?" I asked.

"I don't think I want to know where you came from before you came to us," Prior's voice said quietly through the radio.

I ignored him, shut off the radio, and unloaded the rifle. I took my time getting off the roof, and then I headed back to Heero, knowing that we couldn't be seen anywhere near here. I collected the hood on my way back to the car. There would be cameras and news crews here soon, if they weren't already parked up the street. I picked up my speed at that thought and ran faster. I opened the door and Heero looked at me and smiled. I moved the seat and put away the rifle and hood, took off the vest and stowed everything away before climbing into the passenger seat. I moved over towards Heero and leaned in.

"Good shot," he chuckled.

"Yeah." I brushed my lips against his. "Hope they don't figure out who we really are—Prior and Bauer, I mean. I shut off the radio when I was lining up the shot. Didn't turn it back on."

"I hate to tell you, but after you took that shot tonight, everyone pretty much guessed," Heero said quietly. "You took a shot at nearly two hundred yards, in the dark, took out a handgun in a three inch proximity to the guy's hand without shooting his hand off. The shot also went through glass, which deflected the trajectory. That's an almost impossible shot."

"It's not impossible Heero. You just have to know how to figure it. The scope also had night vision and the room was lit up by a lamp or two, so it wasn't completely dark." I nudged him with my shoulder. "So easy a caveman could do it."

Heero exploded in laughter, releasing the tension he'd been holding in all night.

"Jimmy is out, Heero," I said with satisfaction.

He nodded and smiled. "Yes, Duo, he is."

I sat back as Heero's cell phone rang. He looked down at the caller ID before he answered it. "It's Quatre."

"Let me," I said, reaching for the phone. Heero drove and I conversed.

"Hey! Yeah, it's me. Yeah, Jimmy's out, but no sign of Tro…"

"I know," Quatre said calmly. "He called me from Gunter's house. He's there. Gunter's put him in charge of watching the boys for tonight. Gunter dropped him off then was on his way to pick up Jimmy, got a phone call, and ran out in a hurry, he said. Trowa's already talked to the boys about the transmitters and hidden them around the room, just in case someone tries to move them. Congratulations, Duo."

"Just doing the job. Couldn't have done it without you and 'Ro."

Jimmy and Pascal were both safe. I knew it had just begun, but doing something felt good, real good, and having Heero here with me seemed real good, too. Oh, and to top it off, Gunter called and canceled our dinner. Well, I guess me and my buds would have to go out and celebrate something **real** this time.

End, It's Back to Work, Chapter Fourteen


	22. It’s Back to Work Chapter 15

**DEFYING GRAVITY**

Part Two: It's Back to Work

**Chapter Fifteen**

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Gundam Wing or its characters, nor do I make any monetary profit off this story.  
Warnings: 1x2x1, 3x4x3, AU, yaoi, some language

--Kaeru Shisho 5/28/2007

This chapter is written in Wufei's POV. I hope you like this diversion from the front line.

* * *

Work had become my refuge from the chaos of ordinary life, but living in the same building as I worked enmeshed the two. I stepped inside my office at the Preventer' Agency, to find the atmosphere indistinguishable from that of the dormitory, only smaller. I craved privacy and serenity. I considered moving into an apartment of my own. 

Instead, I agreed to an alternate housing solution. And, for a few weeks, I had a home with occasional privacy and serenity, but also without the loneliness or monotony living single often brings. It came complete with four roommates who were also ex-Gundam pilots, co-workers, troubled, gay males my own age. My new home life was often in turmoil, but the kind I could look forward to because I chose it knowing full well what I was getting into.

My roommates were one of a kind, and I knew them well. Quatre Winner came from an aristocratic family, much as my own, with excellent comportment and an engaging personality, facilitated by true empathic ability. We partnered at work. He performed in an exemplary manner as a brilliant strategist, his conduct completely open and honest, yet he could also be surprisingly devious, belied by an innocent face. The man is not innocent of anything. He seduced Trowa Barton before the poor clown knew what hit him.

"Don't you think his eyes are beautiful?"

"What eyes? I have seen only one. Winner, I don't think Barton is gay."

"He is. He never dates."

I didn't either. My look of alarm caused my partner to snicker in a most un-masculine manner—a giggle. He was excited, enamored, and past listening to my advice.

"He _looks_, Wufei. He looks at cute guys. I'm going to ask him out."

"Be careful," I told him unnecessarily. "Make it coffee, something innocuous and simple."

Winner pressed his lips into a hard line. "I was going to invite him to a hotel for hot afternoon sex."

I coughed and sputtered and muttered forgettable platitudes, while he smiled smugly and marched over to Yuy and Barton's office.

I had never been close to Barton; he spoke like a mercenary, when he talked at all. On the job, I never witnessed his being anything but staunchly loyal to his team mates, trustworthy, and a dutiful, hard worker, but around the dormitory the man was a lazy ass. Most importantly, though, Barton performed extremely well with his partner, providing a level head and solid presence.

His partner at work was Heero Yuy, a man to be cognizant of at all times. Yuy lived with an intensity matched only by my own, but this often limited his objectivity. When his judgment has been flawed, Yuy has been subject to rash decisions. He has, however, humanized these past couple years into a vastly more approachable man than the overly focused boy I first met during the war.

I ignored my partner when he returned fifteen minutes later. If he had been turned down, he didn't need me to tell him "I told you so," and if he had been accepted, then I did not want to know the details. I looked up when Winner slipped on his jacket and combed his hair, readying himself to go out.

"A lead in a case?" I asked, hoping for an excuse to go out and see some action, too.

"Lunch."

I didn't need to check the time, but my eyes couldn't resist glancing up at the wall clock. "It's only 11:00! You just had coffee and a doughnut from the snack bar."

"Who said I was eating anything?" He smiled enigmatically. "If I'm lucky, I might miss dinner, too."

Someone tapped on our door softly. My partner opened the door before I could stand. There was Barton.

"Ready?" he asked, eye on Winner.

"For ages!" Winner said, laughing.

I caught Barton's eye as they left. The man shrugged, a tiny smile snuck out, and then disappeared. He cocked his head and whispered, "Irresistible," then closed the door behind them with a nearly soundless click.

I just stood there shocked. Thirty seconds later, Yuy stood at my desk, glaring at me as if I'd stolen his pet cat, which he didn't own, gun, or laptop.

"Where are they going?"

"I have no idea."

"Well, when will they be back?"

"Dinner, possibly, but I wouldn't count on it."

"What? I have work to do. I need him here, now. Lunch is sufficient time to demonstrate interest."

"I do not think interest is what Winner plans to demonstrate."

Yuy stood, breathing, hands fisting at his sides, impatience overlapping confusion and overtaking his annoyed expression. "What can you possibly be talking about, Chang?"

"I believe Winner wants Barton to know he's not as unattainable or as prim as he feigns to be on the job."

"They are going to have sex… on their first date?"

The man had a way with words, at times. He was a teenage male and proved it occasionally with his mind focusing on sex and other people's sexual encounters. I had noticed his rather perverse interest in the rarely seen agent with the long braid, and suspected that in Maxwell lay Yuy's Achilles' heel. I would, of course, never intimate anything of the sort, to either of them.

"That is not your or my business, Yuy. Now, I have work of my own to do."

On his way out, I could have sworn he said, "I'm impressed," but I may have heard incorrectly.

My fourth roommate has tested the limits of us all, and, yet, he cemented us together. He was totally unaware of his impact on us, of course. He lived large, because he could. Duo Maxwell exasperated me with his incessant chatter, confounded me with his dramatic mood changes, impressed me with talents and skills he could conjure out of a tragic past, and entertained me innumerable times with his lively sense of humor. He gave others the impression of being sexually easy, but I knew for a fact that he was just the opposite. How he and Yuy could carry out a romance was beyond my imagination. He exuded charm, and he knew it. That must be a part of it, but only a part.

"Have you seen Duo?"

Yuy had materialized at my desk. I had expected him. That he was infatuated with Maxwell was obvious to anyone but him and Maxwell. I had to concentrate fully on not smiling, so I allowed Winner to handle the conversation; he was bubbling over with the desire to do so.

"He just got in from the worst covert job ever this morning, Heero."

"I know. I heard him, but then he disappeared."

"Commander Une caught him dabbing at a bloody cut in the men's room, except that he was actually in the ladies'. She sent him to the infirmary and he hasn't been back since."

"Infirmary?" I asked.

"Did Une say how serious his injuries looked?" Yuy asked.

"No. He could walk, at least."

I found myself striding purposefully out the door. "I'll see."

Of course, I could have placed a call, but I knew Yuy needed me to see him in person. To be honest, though, I used any excuse possible to visit the infirmary, and Miss Po. I think she was expecting me when I arrived minutes later.

"He's resting and fine. Dehydrated, exhausted, under weight, bruised and battered, but intact and not concussed," she told me.

"That…is a relief."

"How are you? Getting enough rest yourself? You look like you could use a square meal, and not one of the cafeteria's starch-heavy ones either. It's break time for me, how about lunch at Woo Lo's? It's Kung Pao Shrimp day."

"I would like that, thank you. I already have my jacket. I don't have to go back to my office, but I should notify Yuy—"

"Taken care of. Agent Maxwell okay'ed a copy of his medical report to be sent to Agent Yuy. I released it just as you arrived. Let's go."

Eventually I did amass my courage and ask the woman out myself, but, until then, I couldn't help myself but fall in with her plans. I liked my women strong and self-reliant, and Doctor Po was surely that. I was just unsure whether or not Sally Po thought I measured up to her standards, which was painful to admit, and difficult to determine.

Resolute to prove I could ask the woman out and take defeat like a man, I made the decision to ask her on a date. Winner had procured a pair of tickets to the opera, which conflicted with tickets Barton had to the _CIRQUE DU SOLEIL_, and so he offered the opera tickets to me, daring me to find a female date. I took the tickets and ran.

I cut into the men's room on my way to the infirmary. I knew every hair was in place and that I looked supremely confident. I could not control the crazy beating of my heart, but I could straighten out my vocal cords so that I spoke with the authority of a senior agent.

"Excuse me, Doctor Po," I said. "May I have a moment of your time?"

Formal was the best attack under the conditions. I decided this after practicing a Maxwell-casual "Say, I was wondering if you might me interested…?" and coming off sounding like I was intoxicated, or worse. My fall-back led me into my comfort zone and my ingrained, refined conventions.

"Yes, of course. Will my office be okay?" Sally asked.

"Perfectly, yes, thank you."

Once inside her small office, I realized I could do nothing but surge forward with my request. I had not prepared an exit strategy. Yuy would have, possibly three; he was perfect in that respect.

"If you have a problem of a …personal nature, Agent Chang, please be absolutely certain that when speaking to me anything you say will be held in the strictest of confidence."

Dear gods, woman, no! "I, ah, thank you, but this has nothing to do with…health matters."

"I see. Tell me, then, what brings you here on such urgent business?"

She smiled kindly and I forgot everything I had planned to say; in fact, I forgot to say a thing. I must have sat there looking like a stuffed carp for ten minutes, before she spoke to me and broke the spell.

"Are those tickets to 'Madame Butterfly?' in your hands?" she asked.

I woke up; hearing the excitement in her voice drove me to blurt out, "Yes, for the final winter production, performance of Puccini's 'Madame Butterfly.' Would you be interested in…"

"I'd love to join you, Wufei. When is it? Our work schedules are very full and I know you have some vacation time scheduled."

I wondered where she came by that information, any of it, but I was too happy and flustered to dwell on the obvious answer. I also had no idea what performance this was for. I hadn't bothered to look or ask. I'd just ripped them out of my partner's hand and squirreled off. She called me Wufei. In my flurry of mental activity, I had dropped them on her desk. She was studying them now and consulting her calendar.

"After your vacation, why Wufei, these are for New Year's eve! These are as rare as the Hope diamond! However did you get these? Oh, how impolite of me to ask. Forgive me, please? It's just so unexpected and so…wonderful and thoughtful of you."

"Ah." I tried to sound wonderful and thoughtful, and out came Maxwell's words. "You can go? You want to?"

"Yes!" she exclaimed. "I know the perfect place for dinner beforehand, if you haven't already made plans…?"

"No, I was leaving that open." Open and void. I hadn't given it a thought.

"Wonderful! I'll take care of those reservations. We should start early, don't you think? We don't want to feel rushed."

"Rushed? Er, no."

"Good! You know, we should have reservations for the hotel nearby. It will be a late night. The concierge there is a close friend. Shall I have her take care of that for us?"

I nodded dumbly. Hotel room? Night? Gods…

"Now, I'll have to think about what to wear. Will you be wearing formal Chinese or a tux?"

I had both, but only the Chinese jacket fit since I'd filled out. "Chinese?"

"Perfect! I've got time today to shop."

"B-but, you don't have to buy something new, do you?"

She laughed a sweet, musical little laugh. "Oh, Wufei, for this event every woman will be wearing the latest costumes. That's what makes it the event of the year!"

Then she kissed me. On the cheek. Before I could say anything to jinx the moment, I bowed, thanked her for her time, and left with all the dignity I could muster. I sped to the men's room, hoping no one was counting my visits to both the bathroom and the infirmary and think I had a medical problem, and yes, there was lipstick on my cheek. I cleaned it off, but kept the paper towel folded in my pocket. It is still in my desk drawer.

After an eventful vacation together, proving that five ex-terrorist, teenagers could share a house and not wish to or actually kill one another, the five of us moved into a house. I had my own room, segregated from my roommates by the kitchen. This privacy was absolutely essential, being the only straight male in residence. The others enjoyed their sexual encounters with more noise than I found tolerable.

Homosexually did not bother me, although, I had been raised to believe it was an offense worthy of death. By the end of the war I had seen far more deeds worthy of death than a person's aberrant sexuality. My open attitude may have been one reason, the least important, I must add, for partnering me with Winner, who, I assumed, had informed the commander of his orientation. So, if I didn't have to listen or be a party to their antics, I didn't care. Maxwell's name, however, should be spelled "A-N-T-I-C-S," at times. I have alternate spellings, too. Many impolite.

"Maxwell!"

"Hey, 'Fei!"

"I do not want you cooking my lunch naked. Get dressed!"

"Ah, this is breakfast. Just soaking the bread. Waiting for the shower."

"When it's done at noon, it becomes lunch, but that's not the point I'm making. Can't you wait in a robe? I have put on a robe. That is not too much to ask of you, is it?"

In a split second, Maxwell ripped the robe off my shoulders and arms; it was off entirely.

"If you say so." He laughed like a lunatic.

Barton, naturally, ambled in. "Kinky."

I was embarrassed, of course. It wasn't as if we all hadn't seen each other naked before, but knowing that the two of them could become aroused by my body changed the dynamics entirely. Winner confessed to me--once, and only once, after having what amounted to too much alcohol (two sips of beer) at a celebratory party with a few other agents following the closure of a grueling case--that he thought my darker skin and lithe form were very "exotic."

Leave it to Maxwell, though, to put me in this situation. When I gathered my wits to look up, there Maxwell was, making his layered bread and egg _strata_, wearing my robe as if it were I who had crossed the line, and Barton was checking me out!

"Doctor Po's one lucky lady," Barton said, smoothly, then, as if this was an ordinary occurrence, he said, "But don't think Yuy won't figure out how you're getting more'n your share of the food."

He kissed the top of Maxwell's head, and sauntered out of the room, ignoring my sputtering explanation completely. I never did get my robe back, but I didn't ask; Maxwell wore it many, many times, never appearing before me naked again. I don't think he ever had had a robe before mine, now that I think about it.

Yes, I had a home life separate from work by several miles, then Zechs, Milliardo Peacecraft, entered the picture and the chaos spun out of control. I told Commander Une that Maxwell play-acting a high class male prostitute was a very bad idea, considering he was both in the early stages of accepting his homosexually and in forming a deeply loving relationship. I didn't say with whom, since inter-office relationships were frowned on. Winner and Barton were extremely circumspect about their affair. No one but the five of us knew, but now Zechs would. My concerns were duly noted and ignored. Maxwell was going undercover period end of discussion.

My partner and Barton were also chosen to play supporting roles in the mission. I could not imagine how terrible one might feel, watching one's mate being fondled by a stranger, and have to accept it. They should never have been permitted to participate conjointly in the mission. That act alone revealed the depth of love and respect the two had for Maxwell, because all of us formed the key components of the team as a support structure for that trying, but dear, friend. This would be his last covert mission and he would survive, we vowed.

Wisely, Yuy and I were not part of the on-site UC team, but were to remain at Preventer's Central, engineering the extraction tools and planning in coordination with Winner _in situ_. The job divided naturally into the drug identification/drug and art dealing business and that of the abducted boys and tracking angle. Yuy wished to remain active in Maxwell's role, concentrating his research on the tracking and extraction technology. This left me the drug trade. I had led several successful drug raids in the past, so I was the logical choice.

There were two other agents on the case, Blake Edwards and Aiden Moore, with whom both Yuy and I had shared cases. They would join the others after their UC identities and credentials were established. In the mean time, they aided Yuy and myself with lining up equipment requisitions, filing paperwork, and fending off distractions.

Yuy dealt with the emotional fallout of a bad situation growing worse. When he first informed me of his intention to visit Maxwell, who was in deep under cover, I was stunned by his poor judgment. His reasoning was sound, however, and he had equipment to deliver. I didn't blame him for wanting to see the layout, I simply had reservations. I did not argue him out of his decision. If Commander Une approved, I would not undermine his confidence, and so I waved him on.

As it turned out, the trip was quick and served to improve Yuy's mood and concentration. The arrangements were not what he liked, but Maxwell was adapting well, so he was satisfied. We returned to work, completely certain that all was well.

I received a call first thing in the morning from my distant partner, all propriety and decorum had vanished from his tone. Winner skipped his customary greeting, didn't ask about my health, or inquire as to the progress of my work.

"Duo is—is not Duo! He's turned into _Scythe_! I hate _Scythe_! He has no shame! He's a slut and sleeps with that… that sleazy man, who is supposed to be happily married, Wufei! How can Duo pretend Heero doesn't even exist? Oh--" he groaned, "--and poor Trowa. He's all decked out like a…a…promiscuous twink. I can't stand it! Men pawing him in bars! He comes home smelling like cigarettes and… Damn it, Wufei! You have to come here and straighten things out before it's too late!"

I was appalled. Yuy's head snapped up. He had taken over Winner's desktop in his absence, the surface covered with sorted piles of research material and parts—lots of small, delicate, costly electronic parts. I jabbed my chin at his phone, mouthing "04". Yuy punched in the three-way code and listened in to a continuation of Winner's tirade.

"If you don't, I will not be responsible for the funeral preparations for anyone! I refuse! Cleaning up after another Duo OD is not part of my job description, but I do it out of consideration for my friend. _Scythe,_ on the other hand, is a shameless bastard I don't even want to share a meal with. The way he hangs all over that…that man. It's disgraceful!"

I heard a sharp crack. Yuy had broken the phone handset.

"I'm taking a walk," he told me, then did.

He got as far as his own office, where he took a call from Barton, followed by a call from Zechs. I found this out when he returned, pasty-faced, later that morning.

"There has been a change in mission plans, and personnel."

I had a sinking feeling I knew what changes were in store. Still, the reality left me stunned and furious with that damned Prince of Peacecrap, as Maxwell had once called him.

"I can't possibly drop what I am doing, Yuy. I have four teams from PDEA on assignment. The instant one of them sniffs drug movement, I must be there, not out clubbing in New Germany."

"Zechs' orders. We are to turn over all our duties to Edwards and Moore, and take their places."

I was a knat's breath away from having a nervous breakdown. Yuy had the maturity to back off and buy me a few additional weeks of time. He put Edwards in Quatre's chair, and proceeded to instruct him for three hours without a break on every subject of every part of the operation he was responsible for, leaving out no step, number, name, or mind-bending detail. And then he left before Edwards cried.

I excused myself to visit the crime lab. I wanted the results from the finger prints lifted from the gift card. What I got were excuses. Partials. Too faint. I was not in the mood to listen to incompetent imbeciles.

"Where is the expert in charge down here?" I demanded to know.

Vacation.

"Get her here. Now. Priority One."

I didn't care who hated me. I would break this case.

One hour later, Dorothy Catalonia stormed into the lab, spouting my exact sentiments. I gave her a very brief picture of what was in store for her if I had to do all the lab work myself, and I did have the authority to destroy her career. Once we were on the same wavelength, we both hunkered down over the microscopes and examined the evidence. Two hours later, we had a moderately good print to examine. Another hour and we had a match in the international Who's Who database. An ID. Alric Gunter left his damning, partial finger prints on the gift card.

Duke Dermail, leader of the foundation through the war years, had a brother, who had died in the war. This brother had a son, the Duke's nephew, Franz Dermail, who we believed was now in control of the Romefeller Foundation. From what we'd learned about Franz, I could believe he was the type to raise an army of terrorists and disrupt the world. Now, we knew that the Duke's brother had an illegitimate son, and Franz' step-brother was Alric Gunter—imagine that!

"Thanks, Miss Catalonia. I'm sorry to have disturbed you. You have no idea how important this information is."

"I might find my way to forgive you, if you make it up to me."

"If it is within my powers…?"

"Take me out to the dinner I missed tonight."

"Now?"

"Yes."

My cell phone rang. "Damn."

"Serious?"

"I have to fly to Belgium."

"Tonight?"

"Immediately—a drug sting operation is about to go down. Rain check?"

"I will hold you to it, Wufei Chang. Oh, and here's some reading material for you. We _are _working down here, counter to some of the suggestions I've heard to the contrary. Part of the drug Agent Maxwell ingested was an Ecstasy product, but only one component."

I took the folder with a polite "thank you," punched in my next call to confirm my airline reservations, while picking up my already packed, emergency travel bag at the agency lockers, hailed a taxi, and replayed the last few hours in my head to see if I'd missed anything important.

_"The recreational drug Ecstasy is fast becoming a problem with global implications, as growth in use and trafficking expands at alarming rates, according to law enforcement authorities. The drug 3,4-methylenedioxy methamphetamine (MDMA) is a synthetic substance, ingested in pill form, which also goes under the names X, Adam, and E. It is used primarily by teen-agers and young adults at raves – transient, all-night, techno-music dance parties. MDMA gives the user a "high" by affecting the body's serotonin system, which governs mood and body temperature. Also called the "hug drug," ravers take MDMA to alter their perceptions, to dance longer and to lower their inhibitions. It causes serious complications related to dehydration, liver, heart, and kidney damage. Long term …"_

The file continued for ten pages, containing nothing I didn't already know. I had never used a drug more complicated than aspirin in my life, and now I was an expert on the manufacturing, distribution, use, results, and money laundering aspects. What Maxwell had had in his system was 5 times as strong as ecstasy, and that was just one component. Dear gods. It was unfair for a nice kid like Maxwell to have to play guinea pig for some perverted drug dealer.

I was landing in Belgium when I remembered to call Zechs with the results from the finger print analysis. I could not get a secure line, so I left a message with the traumatized Edwards to contact Dorothy Catalonia for the details to forward to Zechs, ASAP. After that, I could concentrate on the mission at hand.

The sting went down with me taking a very minor background role. Wire taps from Zechs' team gave us possible where's and when's, enforcement agents infiltrated the docks and the local customs officers ran warehouse to warehouse searches. How many hiding places for VERY LARGE sculptures could there be? Thousands, as it turns out. Luck smiled down upon us that night, but I was prepared for that.

Luck is associated with nearly all parts of Chinese life. "Fu" is one of the most popular Chinese characters used in the Chinese New Year. It is often posted upside down on the front door of a house or an apartment. Think of "Fu" as a good luck blessing. "Ji" is also popular. It means "lucky" with a propitious flavor, as in "Hope all is well."

As a rule, in day-to-day life in China it is customary to regard even numbers as being more auspicious than odd numbers. Both 1 and 9 are good numbers to have. One stands for "unity" while 9 stands for "longevity" or "enough", so they combine well with other lucky numbers. As the number two (Er), usually suggests germination and harmony, at wedding celebrations, decorations are invariably setout in pairs: a pair of red candles, a pair of pillows, and couplets hung on two sides of the hall.

Six, pronounced as "Liu," conveys indirectly its homophony's (sound) meaning, which is: do everything smoothly. The number eight, "Ba," in Chinese has a similar sound to "Fa," which means to make a fortune. All business men favor this number very much.

Maxwell may consider himself "The God of Death," but it's Quatre whose name in Chinese rings the "death" toll. Four, is the exception to the even number rule as it sounds like "Si" (death). So when people choose car license tags, phone numbers, and room numbers, they try to avoid it.

Putting a 2 in front of other unlucky sounding numbers like 4 is shunned also. The number 24 is considered unlucky homonymy (sound) wise, because it sounds the same as "easily dying" and 2424 is a very unlucky number indeed.

The Chinese Number System Pronunciation for the characters uses the standard Romanization scheme in China called pinyin. Five is "wu," as in my name Chang _Wu_fei. Sometimes two is associated with "easy", three with "lively", four with "death,", five with "me or myself", six with "continuously" (use in combination with other numbers, like "68"), eight with "get rich" and nine with "long lasting." Most the price tags end with 98 or 88.

Like everything else in nature, the Chinese feel numbers have yin and yang qualities. Odd numbers (1,3,5,7,9) are considered yang while even numbers (2,4,6,8) are considered yin. Since yang quality is associated with growth and prosperity, the yang numbers are generally more desirable than the yin numbers. However, there are many exceptions to the rule.

The number 999 is not a desirable number because it is too yang and the only way for it to go is down, in the sense that the follow up number is 1000 and the beginning of a new cycle – starting all over again. In the past, nine is reserved for the Emperor and ordinary people are not allowed to use the number. The doors to the imperial palace are all decorated with (9x9) 81 brass knobs to signify the majesty of the Emperor. We know from history what happened to all Emperors, they get overthrown in the end. So unless you have a good ego and a strong desire for constant renewal, do not choose 9, 99 or 999.

Sometimes not so attractive numbers can become attractive when formed into a phrase. Character wise, 4 is written as though the sun is being obscured by a cloud, so pictorially, it stands for a cloudy day and bad luck. The Chinese do not like to have a house or a car with the number 4 or a combination like 14 "must die", 24 "easily dying", 44 "dying and dead" and 74 "surely dead". In the case of the number "48", 4 sounds like "death", but when placed in front of the prosperous 8 the result becomes "determined to prosper." The number "54" sounds the same as "shall live forever and will not die". Therefore, Winner and I combine to make a good partner team (54), but not Maxwell with Winner (24) or Yuy with Winner (14).

You may laugh, but Commander Une considered this when planning how to pair us as partners.

Any numbers that start with 1,2,3,6 and 8 or a combination thereof will always sound lucky. To achieve a feeling of health and prosperity you can choose numbers from these combinations and you cannot go wrong, especially well if you can balance the yin and yang numbers in their combinations. For example 3388 or 1618 and 1328 are all very auspicious, because they have a combination of two yin numbers and two yang numbers, so they are considered balanced and ritually correct, in harmony with each other.

It is a good idea to have (3) Barton on our team and pairing Barton with Yuy (31) is very propitious.

Entire concepts are build from strings of numbers: "518: I will prosper", "5189: I will prosper for a long time", "516289: I will get on a long, smooth prosperous road."

Why have I taken us on this interesting but tangential journey, you ask? The purpose of this information was to establish a basis for my opinion that luck was on our side the night of the sting operation. My plane ticket was number "516289." The taxi cab ride before tip cost $33.88. My locker was number "54," the number of warehouse buildings in lockdown surrounding the one containing the target art was "6," and the building I sipped tea and used as a temporary coordinating post was the "Fu Ji" take out Chinese lunch house.

All very auspicious, if you were a superstitious person who believed in Chinese symbolism.

Here is a summary from my report:

A joint Belgium Customs Service and Preventer's Drug Enforcement Agency (our DEA,) sting operation took place in Brussels, Belgium. Two pounds each of cocaine and heroin was recovered (four total) from a life-sized replica of "David." Nine people were arrested who were connected to the Royal Fine Art Trading Company, which was founded by Giacomo Medici, an Italian art dealer convicted in 2004 of dealing in stolen ancient artifacts. His operation was thought to be "one of the largest and most sophisticated antiquities networks in the world, responsible for illegally digging up and spiriting away thousands of top-drawer pieces and passing them on to the most elite end of the international art market."

Royal - with its front entrance inside a flower shop - was the meeting place for the upper echelon of a drug-dealing enterprise. This should come as no surprise. The inter-relationship among drug distribution, violence and the ancillary connection to rogue segments of the art-for-trade industry have been documented for many years. Attempts to reach Royal by phone yesterday were unsuccessful and workers in the flower shop said they couldn't let anyone in because the boss was out.

"Clearly, Royal Fine Art was a front for an illegal drug distribution enterprise," said Captain Jacques Brel, whose Brussels office conducted the probe with the Preventer's DEA.

Not included in my report were these final figures: One of the suspects attempted to shoot a customs officer. His bullet missed and struck a dark corner near of the roof, killing 4 bats. Bats are considered good and lucky animals in Chinese culture. Four of the other men were aged 24. A sixth man wore a head band sporting the number "666," (Christian sign of the beast and a very lucky Chinese number). Unfortunately, he wore it upside down. Another lived at a street address 7424. The last two carried only odd amounts of change.

Not that I believed in that ancient, superstitious malarkey.

There was no evidence linking Royal Fine Art with Alric Gunter or the Dermail clan, yet. That was my next goal, should I be fortunate enough to evade the dress up party in New Germany. I planned to remain in Brussels awaiting the next shipment news, which I understood might be the beginning of next month, and direct my team, who were watching the Royal headquarters.

In the meantime, I imagined this would put a kink in Gunter's plans: customs had impounded the hollow "David" statue.

End, It's Back to Work, Chapter Fifteen


	23. It’s Back to Work Chapter 16

**DEFYING GRAVITY**

Part Two: It's Back to Work

**Chapter Sixteen**

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Gundam Wing or its characters, nor do I make any monetary profit off this story.  
Warnings: 1x2x1, 3x4x3, AU, yaoi, some language

--Kaeru Shisho 5/28/2007 Duo's POV again as we transition to the next story arc.

* * *

I have to give my bud, Quatre, a lot of credit. He was a wonder boy at times. He fabricated the entire cover story for the operation recovering the boy, Jimmy, from the clutches of the pervert Count Giopinno, making it appear that the police had been following the Count's activities and not Gunter's. We still had need to "protect" Gunter. We still needed to connect all the links from source to sink to fulfill the mission objectives, and that meant we still needed Gunter alive and cooperative. 

"It wasn't hard to find plenty of reasons for the police to investigate the corrupt official," Quatre said.

"True," I told him, not letting him escape taking the credit, "but it was your skills that wound it up."

His determination, political savvy and skillful manipulations of press and of the count's many enemies, caused the man's many indiscretions to come to light in the subsequent police investigations. The count was depraved and dishonest and now incarcerated.

The press had a field day and Gunter's name was never mentioned, his connection to the "boy for hire" scandal remained hidden. Hopefully, he would feel safe enough to continue his dealings with the 'army' recruiters until we could catch him and arrest his perverted ass. This was our hope and our plan.

I on the other hand, assuming you have another hand, was not a wonder boy. Duo _"Scythe_" Maxwell was a mess. I really needed to be someplace else.

Every night I hit the swankiest night spots and pranced around enticing sexual attention. Mill accompanied me, sometimes with Quatre, sometimes Trowa, or even Heero, rarely all four of us. We drew attention wherever we went. There was interest in the skin _Wind_ was trading. If we wanted to change careers, any of us could have made a damned impressive income as rent boys. Not that we did, obviously. We preferred making less money risking our lives as Preventer's agents.

What happened every night when I'd get home is I'd be horny as hell, and sick because of it. I hated the others thinking I was getting off on this lifestyle, 'cause, well, it was too much like being a L2 slut. I didn't like my best friends thinking that was what I'd become. Working on my own was better in that way. I locked myself in the bathroom for private relief. Nearly every night I'd whack off in the shower.

I could sleep platonically with Mill when I was done, or less platonically with Heero in his bed. I had a choice, sometimes. Other times, Heero insisted I shower and sleep with him, bond with him. I have to admit, it kept me sane and I agreeably took that route more often. Still, I didn't want him to find me repulsive and grow to disrespect me. I tried to explain to him that there were nights when I felt sullied and unworthy of his arms.

I did not want him around when _Scythe _had to do something Duo'd be ashamed of. I didn't. I just couldn't do that to Heero or me, Duo.

This one night Mill took me, Quatre, and Trowa out, leaving Heero at home with the monitoring job. Quatre and I had a rough night. He got pawed and pinched enough to have greasy prints on his clothes and bruises on his skin. He was somewhat effeminate looking with his cultured, effete gestures and manners, and attracted one set of deviants, while Trowa interested a different set, who liked his graceful strength and agility. Why I got the druggies and head cases, I'll never know.

We were at this club called "Dead End" in German. The music wasn't bad, just too loud and the lighting crazier than most other places, all these tiny lights outlining wall features and blinking. I'd had groping hands down my pants and would have ripped one off had Trowa not ground his groin into my "admirer's" ass and lured him away. Why didn't I find that funny? It wasn't as if Trowa was very aggressive, normally.

Nothing about being bait for war-monger-whore-mongers was funny, I guess.

A minute later, Mill rescued my braid from a dude perving on it and stuffing it into his shirt. Man, I woulda cuffed him upside of the head with a meat cleaver or a scythe had I had one, which would have been a bad thing for business, so it was a good thing Mill was there. He seemed to be there for all of us more often since the drug incidents, so often that Quatre called him our "keeper." Mill hated that nickname, so we starting using it around the house; working he was _"Wind"_ or "Sir."

Wherever we went, he mostly accompanied us, schmoozing with the other high class pimps, arms dealers, drug dealers, and other cream of the underworld society bastards. I think the Prince of Sanc found his vocational niche, proving my point all along: those OZ operatives were just high class pimps, arms dealers, and drug dealers dressed up in uniforms and organized into a military unit. That's what made this mission of ours so damned familiar. I was back in the war fighting for a vague notion of freedom and self-reliance. I was better fed, better dressed, but I sure did miss my Gundam and the license to blow things up.

Stress release, destruction, chaos, yeah.

Now, all I had was sex. Sex, Zechs, and Heero. Over time, _Scythe _transformed into a dominating, up market, sexy piece of merchandise, but it was strictly hands off _Wind'_s commodity for the time being. Prince _Wind_ made it clear that he was aiming for the marketplace of the upper crust, and rumors of "the big event" thrummed at the edges of conversations.

"Hey, babe, dance with me," one piece of shit would offer me.

Sometimes I would. "One."

"You are gorgeous, sweetie. I can get you into the big time."

Stuff like that perked my interest. "Think so?"

"Yeah, but I have to get to know you better. Say, I got good stuff back at my place."

Always the drugs. I'd pretend to consider the idea. "Where is it?"

I'd ask, not that I had any mind to take anyone up on their offer, but I would test my memory. I'd spent many hours learning the details, studying maps, calling real estate agents—well, Heero did—and I committed it all to memory. I knew the tony addresses, the expensive real estate around the financial district with extortionate price tags. Often the slummiest places were close by, hidden from view by twisting alleyways. You had to know with exactitude the concrete location of an address in the vast network of the numbering system, or you'd find yourself in a fleapit rather than a palace.

"Real nice place on 53rd."

I knew with precision most of the grey areas. "Upper or lower?"

"Upper. 270-view of the city."

Gottem! "Go to hell! The only city you see from there is where your mother works the streets."

End of dance. Hell, I gave the dude a tumble. He had his chance.

I know my teammates were worried about me going over the edge, and I was close for sure. My sense of humor was shot. I couldn't pull off practical jokes, and sarcasm was more Heero's style than mine. At times, I just played _Scythe_ to the hilt and stayed there for a few days just to get him out of my system. In Heero's arms, I'd be Duo Maxwell again. Maybe my brain was split and would never mend back into a single operative unit again. I wasn't sure and I wasn't sure if there was anything to do about it anyway.

Not at the time.

Over a month had passed since the night we'd gotten Jimmy out. The drug shipment that had been scheduled for the middle of the month had been nicked in the bud by Wufei's impressive sting operation, but caused the next one to be delayed indefinitely.

We still didn't have a complete breakdown on the drugs I'd been slipped. Gunter had canceled another dinner and had avoided me like the plague. We continued to watch and wait for things to happen. But the only thing Gunter did during that time was visit Mill's dummy, porn web-site. I had started to worry that Gunter was onto us, but Mill just smiled and told me to be patient.

Quatre stuck his wet head out of his bedroom. "Give the water heater ten more minutes before you shower."

"'Kay!"

I looked up at the clock on the wall above the desk in the office. It was six-thirty and Trowa had not called yet. It was a Friday night and I was taking Heero to a quiet dinner. We needed a night away from the house anyway, so I didn't complain.

I'd asked Quatre and Trowa to tag along and Trowa was supposed to call if he could get away. It had grown increasingly rare for Gunter to let him out of his sight for very long. The earlier plans for Mill to offer to buy Jimmy, or some other boy, now that he was gone, had been nay-say-ed by Trowa. The game plan had changed.

After little Pascal's escape and Strom's quick demise, Gunter had a few reasons to be nervous. Add the loss of Jimmy and the Italian count's arrest to that and I'd call Gunter terrified. He must have had the car inspected and discovered the tracers because we lost the feed. The other one had been on Strom's car, we discovered, when the last feed we got landed us at a used car lot. So much for those. Trowa volunteered to attempt to place new ones, but Mill said definitely no. Too risky.

I think Quatre smiled more that day after hearing that.

It was a very odd thing about the Italian count. He seemed more afraid of outing Gunter than doing time. He'd refused to talk to anyone but his lawyer and even his lawyer seemed aggravated with him. I realized that there was probably a lot more about the count and Gunter than we knew.

Was I afraid of Gunter, the man himself? Fuck no. Was I afraid of being around him? Fuck yeah. I was afraid he'd drug my ass again and I'd end up killing him. I'd thought to myself several times that that wouldn't be a bad idea at all. I certainly would feel no pain over it, other than from Agent in Charge Bauer and the rest his dumbass agents that were now "watching" our operation.

Tens minutes were up and it was my turn at the bathroom. I did the quick clean, skipping my hair so I'd leave enough hot water for Heero. I dried and dressed in what I'd been wearing. I really needed to do some laundry soon. I crashed on our futon bed, fresh from my shower, and smiled at Heero.

"So, did Barton call you?" Heero asked.

I looked up suddenly and shook my head slowly. "I haven't heard from him, and he's not making appearances with the cameras in either house."

"Winner is showing signs of severe stress having him working Gunter's place," Heero said quietly.

"I know that it's not any consolation, but he's actually safest where he is now. If we get him out, Gunter will hunt him down like a dog because of the things he's witnessed. Trowa's going to have to go through some of that swell Preventer's counseling, even after Gunter is taken down."

I rolled Heero to my right side and then rolled my body over his. He sighed and lifted his arms above his head, lying relaxed beneath me.

"I've been trying to explain that to Winner. He just wants it all to go away."

I laughed. "Who can blame him?"

"I'll shower and get dressed while you go check the monitors and call Jimmy," Heero said. "I put his home number on the desk. His father was located and he's living with him. I guess he's very grateful to you and the man wants to meet you, even though he know you can't now. You promised to call the kid."

I nodded. "You always seem to get your way."

"Of course I do. I'm the one who's always right."

As I peeled off of him and the bed, I raked over his half-naked body with a glare, but there was no heat in it. There was no way I was going to tell him that he was indeed right ninety-eight percent of the time. "Whatever you want to believe, _babe_," I mumbled.

As I headed for the door, I stopped and turned, biting my lip to keep from smiling and failing terribly. Heero lay there with one hand tucked under his chin, the fingers of his other hand tapping patiently on the bed.

"Go ahead, choose any of my clothes you think you can get your fat ass into," I said as I walked out.

I could still hear him laughing as I went into the living room. I cursed him silently for knowing me so well and at the same time, the thought of it sent shivers down my spine.

I went into the office and scanned the computer screens for activity. One of the alarm boxes on my computer was flashing. The motion alarm that I'd set in Gunter's library had been triggered. I pulled the camera up and there was Raul Frolich sitting at Gunter's desk, appearing to search for something on the laptop computer. I watched as he sifted through the desk drawers before returning to his chair, frustrated as hell.

"Aw, don't let a little challenge frustrate you. You don't have all night, you know. Gunter can come back any minute. You wanna bullet to the brain, too?" I muttered at the monitor.

I didn't know what he could be searching for, but I half-ass hoped that he would find it. He suddenly left the chair and turned to the book-lined shelves behind him to poke and prod around. He pulled a book half way out and pushed it back in. He repeated that gesture over and over again as he scanned the titles. A few of them he actually took out and thumbed through before putting them back. He checked his watch as he pulled out another book.

"Come on you SOB, don't give up now. Find the mother—"

A small case slipped from the book and clattered to the floor, a case with a small CD. Nothing's better than an answer to your prayers.

"Bingo!"

I heard the Mill's bedroom door slam and knew that he'd had gotten out of the bathroom. Talk about shower hogs; he was the worst. A consequence of vanity is hogging the facilities—you can quote me.

I leaned back, propped my feet up on the desk, and watched Frolich on the monitor. He walked over to Gunter's laptop and I reached over to Mill's computer to make sure that the feed would come through if Frolich inserted the disc. Sure enough, he jammed in the disc then took another from his jacket pocket. When he started typing the copy instructions, I pulled Mill's keyboard closer, entered in a few commands, and confirmed that the data stream would all come through. As the CD copied, I extracted the data through the secured wireless server.

I lived for moments like this. Mostly, they were just that, moments. This was too easy, and I knew nothing worth it ever came that easy.

"Ah, shit," I said to nobody because nobody but me was there at the time. "The entire file's encrypted! Man, how long is it gonna take me to make it readable?"

Too long. In calculable hours. I just wasn't up for that tonight. I saved the file to a memory stick and returned to watching mister sneaky bastard.

Frolich pocketed his illicit copy and returned the original disc to its hiding place. He took a look around and rearranged a few items, possibly trying to make it look like he hadn't been there. I couldn't figure out why Frolich would be snooping around in Gunter's office, but I was curious as hell. I just hoped that whatever was on the disc would point me in the right direction. None of us believed Raul Frolich was clean as his stats read.

"Well, Raul, what were you so willing to risk you life snooping tonight?"

Okay, I couldn't leave it at that. I had to give it the old Maxwell try, at least. I ran the file from the memory stick through a couple decryption programs, which were all I had on this computer. I'd have to ask Heero what he had with him, but I knew it couldn't be much. The most sophisticated programs resided back at headquarters. We had the best high-performance supercomputers with super highly-tuned computer cluster distributed-memory systems using commodity processors combined with custom interconnects: IBM Blue Gene/L, NEC Earth Simulator, IBM ASCI White, and an Intel ASCI Red.

In spite of my personal software limitations, I finally managed to convert a tiny portion of the file into something readable. Naturally, not a lot of it made sense to me, some of it I wasn't sure if I'd gotten completely unencrypted; in fact, I might have made it worse. But instead of dumping my new file of crap on Quatre or Heero, I decided to send it to Wufei and his contacts in the decrypting lab.

"Okay, I recognize one column of cities names, including Brussels, New Germany, Paris Certain, East London, and Venice Proper. Train schedules. Who knows? Could be several schedules and several foreign contacts. Ah, more data… Those might be codes and passwords along with names."

I really didn't have a clue what it meant, except that nearly every "contact" had a foreign city name in one column—that much I could tell. Heero and I could figure it out, given the time and computing power, but we didn't have either. I didn't mind waiting on the lab to work out the results. They actually knew what they were doing most of the time, which was impressively high in an organization as big and clogged with worthless idiots as the Preventer's.

There were times when I missed working for people who had it together. This assignment was not one of those times, replete with people functioning as obstacles while masquerading as agents, police, and professional investigators.

The New Germany constabulary was adequate, but it still had holes and bureaucratic assholes that thought they ran the show. Same thing for the local Preventer's office, only the Preventer's knew it, and flaunted it.

I had two words for Agent in Charge Klaus Bauer, who persisted in calling me every other day now—fuck off. That hadn't made him too happy, and he'd threatened to have my ass in a sling. I told him it sounded kinky and that if he attempted it, I'd cut off his balls and hand feed them to him. Yeah, I could swing into old Shinigami Duo again, and I didn't care.

"Okay, who's home?"

I checked each camera feed. Gunter was not in the house, but I located Trowa – at last!-- was in the living room. He must have been in the kitchen earlier, where we had no surveillance. I called his cell phone, which would vibrate silently. I watched the feed as he checked the caller ID and answered.

"Yo."

"Think you can get me a complete print set from that Raul dude?"

"Yeah."

"Thanks. You cool?" I asked, but Trowa he was always one cool dude.

"It's chill, babe."

"We're waiting dinner in case Alric shows."

"Thanks. Later, dude."

Yeah, there was more to Raul than an interest in building a CD collection. I left the office in search of Heero, checking on his progress dressing. He was not in the bedroom, so I sauntered into the living room where he and Quatre were watching Mill as he finished an intense conversation. Now that his injuries were healing fast and he felt better, Mill's mood had improved and he wanted back in the game, and in control.

"I have my fifth boy arriving tomorrow." Mill waved me into the room signaling for me to keep my mouth shut. "Yes, I can meet you that evening. All right. I think your run of bad luck is about to change. Yes, and good night, Gunter."

He hung up the phone and cracked a smile. "Well, it seems that Gunter is in trouble. He has lost two boys, lost his contact Count Giopinno, although we don't understand the importance of that connection, murdered his own man, Strom, lost his hollow sculpture for transferring drugs in Chang's sting, and now he has called me for help."

"Your help? For what? What does he want?" I asked. Someone had to.

"I'm going to find out. The man sounded frazzled. What he said is that he has employment opportunities for several boys, older ones like mine. He's been very impressed with the job _Tamer_ has done for him."

I guess I didn't look impressed or enthusiastic enough. None of us did. Mill huffed a little then said, "This is a good thing for us. Don't you see? Getting you placed in different parts of his operations will give us looks into his businesses. We haven't made much headway lately just sitting here, and, more importantly, if he is a player in the big 'trade show', then we can finagle an invitation out of him."

Trowa entered the house, looking weary, but anxious to leave the neighborhood. He made a point of unwrapping his jacket slowly from his arm to reveal a shot glass sealed in an evidence bag.

"You got it!" I shouted excitedly. "You are terrific, Tro! No wonder Heero adores you—as a partner, I added quickly. "Do you think the local agency can be trusted with this?"

Mill sighed and rubbed at his temples. Ah, the return of that tension headache. Well, we'd be out of his hair momentarily. Maybe the man could sleep it off. I felt bad knowing I was the cause. I know he was tired of my distrusting everyone and leveling cutting remarks at their lackluster abilities. Quatre had warned me, too. I had practically single-handedly sabotaged all the connections with the local agencies. But I was right, to a point. It wasn't that the officers and agents couldn't execute instructions or do their jobs; it was that we were very, very good, so much better skilled that the others were flawed in comparison. Didn't matter. If Mill had expected me to be easier going than Heero, that was his problem. I was just as exacting.

My stomach clenched up. Great, his stress was transferring to me. Transfer guilt-- man, what next?

Mill dragged out a tortured answer. "I am… sure… that they can handle a finger print ID, if that is what you mean."

"Yeah, that _is_ what I mean. Okay, then I guess we can drop this by on our way to dinner," I said.

"Can you give me a minute to clean up?" Trowa asked.

"Take your time," I said. Maybe my appetite would return. "Mill, I have a bad feeling about this offer of Gunter's."

"Don't tell me. You don't like the idea of separating the five of you," Mill said, crossing his arms over his chest. He made the sentiment sound kinda grubby.

"Well, divide and conquer, ya know? Thinning out the opposition in order to take on the size units you felt beatable. As a team, we watch each others' backs; we're strong. Taken one at a time, we have vulnerabilities, even us."

Mill leaned against the window, bracing himself with an arm and gazed out at the house that hell built, thinking. "Point taken under consideration. I'll listen to his proposal and not agree to anything until we've had a day or two to think over any offer he makes."

"We should make a point of keeping us in pairs, at least," Quatre said.

Heero agreed that to hear Gunter out made sense. I hung on to the idea that the man was poison and nothing he would propose would benefit us unless we put a lot of effort into ensuring it did. Trowa strode past me to Quatre's side wearing a fresh shirt and a smile. We filled him in and traded ideas, settling on a prioritized list of what we wanted to achieve and what was not negotiable. After learning what it was Gunter wanted, we'd decide how we'd adapt it to our needs.

We settled the issue for the night. No more discussing it on the way out to the car even and left Mill to hold down the fort alone for a night. I'm sure he was sick of us and welcomed the privacy. It felt to me a bit like escaping an Oz prison— the rush of freedom followed by gut-level creeps wondering what was waiting right around the corner. And true to form, we were cutting into dessert when Heero's cell phone buzzed, his being the only damned one not shut off.

"Hn. Intercept in… thirty. Hn." Heero snapped it shut and sighed. "That was Zechs. Good news, actually. We are to proceed to the airport and pick up Chang. Ahead of schedule, so he must be coming directly from mopping up after the Brussels job."

"He'll need clothes," Quatre said. "Something to disguise his appearance."

"So do I," Heero said. "I've been borrowing since I got here."

"Makes tomorrow sound fun," Trowa said, rolling his eyes. "Day off and I spend it shopping." He smiled and looked at Quatre, who had taken responsibility for doing nearly all the wash for everybody. "Better than doing laundry, I guess, though."

"Yes, it is!" Quatre agreed. "About that, none of you seem like you're about to start doing your own laundry, assuming, I suppose, that some little fairy will swoop in and do it for you!"

Trowa smiled. "Yeah, when I saw your cute ass walking back to the laundry room with the two overstuffed bags of my clothes and everyone else's towels, that's what I was thinking. Fairy wash boy. I got my wish."

Quatre's face turned pink and he looked down at his plate, forcing back a giggle. "What I'm saying is —if I'm doing the wash, someone's got to do bathrooms. Duo's kept the kitchen all by himself, I think, so it's not his job."

"I'm not in much," Trowa said. It was true. "I'll run a vacuum."

"We don't have one. You can change bedding or collect and wash towels," Quatre told him, but his eyes were on Heero, the other one delinquent it taking on housekeeping duties.

"Prince Zechs can see to his bathroom; I'll take the other," Heero said.

"And Wufei likes clean, so he will find plenty to do, I'm sure," Quatre said, his smile returning. "I have my limits and with everything else we have to put up with—"

"Why not stay out by the airport night, then?" Duo asked. "That way we can shop-and-salon first thing and farther away from curious eyes. Quatre, you and Trowa need professional color touch ups. Maybe 'Fie would like a perm? We could all use those manicure/pedicure jobs. The works, ya know?"

"Everyone okay with that?" Heero asked. "Fine. You drive I'll notify Zechs. I would not mention the perm idea to Chang."

"Oh, that's okay," I said with a smile. "I thought I'd do that."

* * *

The break from the duties of the past weeks was long overdue. Even Mill was grateful that we were taking the burden of dressing Wufei off his shoulders. Everyone was pleased, except Wufei, naturally. 

"Another nasty hotel?!" Wufei nearly shrieked then he whined, "I've been in hotels for days. I was hoping for a nice bed of my own."

"Well, this'll be as close to that wish as you are going to get," I told him as we wended their way through the throngs at the gate and to the bar where the other three ex-pilots were waiting.

"What do you mean by that and it had better not be what I am thinking. I am not sharing a bed with any of you, and that's final. Or Zechs! You weren't thinking of putting me with him?!"

"Hi, Wufei!" Quatre greeted him. Two beers on top of the wine at dinner and he appeared light-hearted again.

I don't think Wufei recognized the others at first; definitely, he stared blankly at Quatre, the one speaking to him. It had been months since he had last seen them. Their hair had grown, for one thing. Quatre's was still red-hued, center parted, and past his jaw. Trowa's hair was also center-parted, grazing his shoulders and even a lighter reddish-blonde from repeated highlighting treatments. He looked like Quatre's slightly taller, hunkier brother—not what you look for in a boyfriend, the brother part. It wasn't doing their relationship any good, for sure. I noticed fewer lingering touches and loving smiles, those intimate gestures two lovers in the early throes of discovering their shared feelings can't seem to avoid, and hoped this hadn't killed their spark.

Heero's hair hung limp and straight from the conditioning care, while yellow-tinted glasses disguised his eyes, but his rigid stance as he rose to greet us was all Heero. I think my braid was a dead giveaway; at least, 'Fei hadn't seemed to have a problem knowing who I was at the gate.

"Yuy, Barton—?" Wufei's voice was husky, probably from the bad air on planes causing throats to dries out. "Winner? Is that…you?"

"Yes, although I don't think even the Maguanacs would recognize me any more." Quatre's voice was familiar. "Have a seat. Have a drink!"

"That is a very good idea." Wufei sank into soft chair and closed his eyes a moment, relaxing for what I'da guessed to have been the first time in months. "I feel like a moth amongst butterflies," he said in a voice so low I barely heard it.

"I take that as a compliment," I barked out in a laugh. "Don't worry, after tomorrow, you'll be a heart-breaking piece of eye-candy."

His eyes flashed me a warning, narrowed, then closed again. "My ancestors will be so proud."

We laughed at his wry humor, glad of it, frankly. There was too much sorrow and grim truths in our short lives. The waitress arrived with menus and another round of beers, giving us another distraction. We traded the kind of small-talk close associates do, ordered food and more drinks, mapped out the next day in town, and dove into the dishes as quickly as they were place before us. When we finished, Heero picked up the tab and motioned for us to head outside, where we could speak freely and not be overheard.

"You haven't mentioned the results I sent on the ID workup on Alric Gunter," Wufei said.

"We received no data," Heero told him.

"I can't believe—" Wufei reached for his shoulder portfolio, muttering a curse in Chinese. "When I was landing in Belgium, I remembered to call Milliardo with the results from the finger print analysis. I could not get a secure line, so I left a message with Agent Blake Edwards to contact Miss Dorothy Catalonia for the details to forward to Agent Milliardo Peacecraft ASAP. Damn it all!" He thumbed through a few papers until he found what he wanted.

"So, Gunter left finger prints on the gift card?" I asked.

"Very poor ones. They got dumped on some novice who gave up. I had to lean on that Catalonia woman to get some results."

Trowa smiled. "She will make you pay."

Wufei's eyebrows shot up. "I interrupted her day off. I have to take her to dinner, that's all."

"Better bring Sally and another male along," Trowa said.

Wufei looked alarmed. "You don't think she expected anything more?"

Trowa nodded. "I made that mistake once—underestimated her concept of settling a debt. I had to call Heero in the men's room to have him come by with some emergency to get away."

I grinned at Heero. "You're good at those bogus extractions."

"Hn," Heero said, but he smiled. "I think you should invite Agent Edwards to join you. He has earned a night with Dorothy."

"You are right. Edwards deserves that much." Wufei's face smoothed out, the frown lines softening with his mood.

Quatre raised his head, sober enough to recall where the conversation began. "You have an ID for us?"

"Oh, yes. Here is what I was looking for. It seems that Duke Dermail, leader of the Romefeller Foundation through the war years, had a brother, who had died in the war. This brother had a son, who would be the Duke's nephew, Franz Dermail. Franz, we believe, is the man controlling the Romefeller Foundation today. From what we'd learned about Franz, I could believe he was the type to raise an army of terrorists and disrupt the world. More sleuthing uncovered a birth certificate proving that the Duke's brother, in addition to fathering Franz, also had an illegitimate son. Franz' step-brother is Alric Gunter—imagine that!"

"Thank you, Miss Catalonia!" I said. "We have our Romefeller-Gunter link at last."

Quatre perked up immediately. "I will investigate that; if I have time, that is. Where there is family, there are secrets dying to be exposed."

"Commander Une has a team devoted to uncovering and exposing this rubbish. She wants us to dredge up more," Wufei said with clear distaste.

"Which reminds me," I interrupted the stream of thought and explained how I copied Raul's file earlier in the evening.

"We'll need to look into the CD encryption and finger print results on Raul immediately," Heero said. "Chang, how tight is your relationship with Catalonia?"

"Tenuous, but no matter. It is Edwards who will become a limpet to the woman of stone." Wufei said this in a light-hearted manner, once again lifting our mood, which, I think, was an odd turnabout: I deflated it and 'Fei-man elevated it.

"Any results on the drugs Duo's been loaded with?" Heero asked.

"Some. Agent Catalonia's work again."

Trowa chuckled and said, "Fucking _big_ dinner. Theater tickets, too."

Wufei rubbed his face with a hand, groaning. "Edwards will do it all. I shall call him tonight, with my regrets that I cannot attend. This job requires my presence and participation for quite a while."

"Drug results?" Heero prompted him.

"What Maxwell had in his system was 5 times as strong as ecstasy, and that was just one component." Wufei sighed. "It's still being analyzed, but there should not be any long-term neurological effects."

"No permanent damage, then," Heero asked.

"Not with the two doses. Just stay away from it from now on."

"Thanks, 'Fei, I'll remember that when some dude's shoving fast-dissolving pills down my throat." Okay, so Heero didn't **own** sarcasm.

Heero filled him in on the latest meeting Mill arranged with Gunter. "Gunter's scared. He trusts us and needs us to work for him. In return, Mill gets an official invite to the meeting with the powers that be in the boy-trade ring."

"And then what?" Quatre asked. "When is this going to be over?"

Heero stared at him, his face softening with understanding and empathy for our kind-hearted friend. "As soon as we get to that 'show' we can pull Trowa and the boys at Gunter's. If one of the 'jobs' Gunter needs us for requires moving drugs, Chang and I will handle that. We will keep the DE agents, the police, customs, _everyone_ out of the action so that we appear to be all Gunter needs to ensure safe deliveries. He will trust us and we will secure the information we need. Do not doubt that we will learn where the boys are being taken, where the army training grounds are located, and acquire the means to link the operations to all the names at the top."

"Then the mission is done," Quatre said.

"Yes."

"Is that all?" Trowa drawled. "Piece of cake."

"I hate cake," I said.

"No you don't," Heero said.

"Now I do."

End, It's Back to Work, Chapter Sixteen


	24. It’s Back to Work Chapter 17

**DEFYING GRAVITY**

Part Two: It's Back to Work

**Chapter Seventeen**

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Gundam Wing or its characters, nor do I make any monetary profit off this story.  
Warnings: 1x2x1, 3x4x3, AU, yaoi, some language

--Kaeru Shisho 5/28/2007 Wufei's charged POV as new arc revs up.

* * *

Nothing I had heard before I left headquarters had really prepared me for this alternating persona, Maxwell-substitute who met me at the gate in the airport upon my arrival. 

The brash pilot in all-black **or** greasy overalls **or** his Preventer's uniform, I knew, and, while I could get used to seeing him decked out in designer suits, this _Scythe_ character had beads in his braids, dozens of braids all braided into one fat rope dangling at his back, and a cream, linen jacket over a midriff-bearing t-shirt. When he met me at the gate, wrapping his arm around me most inappropriately, I pretended not to know him, which he seemed to treat as my usual arrogance.

In the past, he might have been loud, out-spoken, and a tease, but never did he degrade himself. He had pride. He fought to rise above his L2 roots, to dispel the image that attached itself automatically when you put L2 and gay man together. Not that he was inhibited, but he had never before appeared or acted morally lax. Naturally, I'd heard things were worse at the UC house before Yuy came. I knew Maxwell was in character as _Scythe,_ but that didn't prevent me from being deeply embarrassed by his sluttish appearance and demeanor. He kissed Winner on the lips in public, moved over and licked Barton's neck and chin on his way to sucking on his ear, before flopping into Yuy's lap and making out in an unseemly way.

I ordered him to sit down and behave or I would leave. It was a wasted effort, however, since my shame was totally lost on him. _Scythe_ seemed oblivious to his effect on anyone around him or the attention he drew.

I would have easily passed by Winner and Barton, only peripherally noticing them, had Maxwell not led me to their table. Their similarly long, center-parted, red-toned hair lent them a "twins" quality. Yuy, in his colored sunglasses and styled hair, had given me pause, but his posture never changed, so I could identify him once I stood close enough to touch him. _Scythe_ was cold and cynical; he made me miss Duo Maxwell.

Yuy turned his back on the others, while containing his quiet laughter. I was most impressed with him. I knew his feelings for Maxwell, even though I found them bewildering, and how much the new exhibitionist version of Duo must be causing him pain. That he could stand by him was a tribute to Yuy's character.

(o)

I will not talk about the shopping trip. There are, however, a few details I should get out of the way, and then I shall drop the subject.

Winner wears Italian pastels well; he always has, but he would look even more spectacular if he had his natural hair color back. When he came out wearing an Italian designed and tailored, butter-soft _Canali_, the fitter exclaimed: "Like a breath of the French Riviera to carry you through until spring," or some such nonsense. The truth was that our friend simply looked, as Barton put it best, "breath taking."

Barton has grown taller, approaching 5'10", I'd estimate, and carried off a charcoal colored_ Bottega Veneta_ suit with an _Ebano Riga Ombra_ gray-striped shirt so well I was drawn into the rack. But I was told, "no;" I hadn't the "stature" to pull it off. I am nearly 5' 7".

Naturally, Maxwell gravitated over when he heard that—as if he were that much taller than I! He was fully two inches taller than Yuy, I noted, when Yuy stood close and keep cricking his neck, unaccustomed to looking up to his boyfriend. Anyway, to my delight and satisfaction—if I couldn't even look at the rack Maxwell shouldn't either-- Yuy stopped him immediately. No, Maxwell was not a "_Veneta_" man either.

Barton accessorized with a _Nero _VN belt ($350), _Punta Ebano Brunissable_ Calf York shoes ($760), and the Anthracite felt hat ($350). Well, not the hat. Winner laughed and Maxwell flung it Frisbee-like into the air, returning it without a hitch, of course, to its perch on the hat stand where it belonged.

Yuy, I learned that day, knew far too much about fashion, fabrics, and fit than was right for a man of his temperament and background ought to. I thought this, but my narrow-minded opinions did not matter. In the end, Yuy had a fashion affectation whether I thought it became him or not. He had perfect taste, in fact, when he had no reasonable right to have any taste in clothes at all. Look at his attire throughout the war! Spandex shorts and a tank top for God sakes!

Oh, well, at least he was not taller than I. Dear gods... He had a gold ring through his nipple. He caught me staring at it; I was appalled.

"Duo and I got matching ones," he said.

I winced as I watched him give it a tug. "Why?" I asked.

The corners of his mouth twitched and a wry smile spread from his mouth to his eyes. "It is very…arousing," he said.

I am certain he was amused by my embarrassment. He never shared his sexuality with others, although he didn't hide it. He always seemed above and beyond sexual awareness, as stupid as that sounds. Obviously I knew more about what went on in the bedroom he shared with Maxwell than I wanted, but Yuy was usually in control, curbing his excesses-- as was correct in polite society. That was why his little digression shocked me.

He finished buttoning his shirt, saying nothing and stifling the urge to laugh, I'm sure—something his loud-mouthed, unrestrained boyfriend wouldn't have done-- and waited for me to evaluate the fit of his jacket from the back, which was why I'd been standing there in the first place.

Now, I looked very good in a blue _Giorgio Armani_, but Yuy looked sleek, sophisticated and deadlier in the same midnight blue suit, so he bought it and found me something he thought suited me 'better'—in all understandings of the word "suitable."

And, yes, all these designers do expensive off-the-rack designs and, yes, on-the-site, while-you-wait tailoring **is** available at a price. For all the money our salesmen were making off of us that day, the tailoring should have been thrown in.

My dark slate, wool, three-button front _Gucci_ suit at $3,000 needed an appropriate shirt, which turned out to be a $250 poplin _Armani_ and a $105 woven Italian silk _John Barlett_ tie.

To his credit, Yuy introduced me to _Dolce & Gabbana._ As Maxwell put it: your upper body alone costs over a grand, you can't cheap out with the shoes. Sigh. Slip into _Dolce & Gabbana's_ black calfskin leather loafers and you'll be breaking the bank from head to toe; price tag: $540. The total cost of my ultra-trendy, designer-built outfit was $3,895. Oh, just toss in the underwear and make it a round four grand.

I wasn't the worst.

Yuy dressed Maxwell in Italian _Kiton_ summer weights in light greens and golds for, well, if the total came to under $5000 I would have been surprised. While not exactly "sensibly priced," _Kiton's_ off-the-rack suits are a bit more reasonable, though still pricey enough to keep the company on top. Having seen the man in black-resale most of our time together, Maxwell was hardly recognizable; he could pull off international playboy with no problem.

"Man, you don't know how many jokers would wanna clean my clock if I walked out onto the L2 streets looking like this," he said with a chuckle.

"You look sophisticated and handsome," I told him. "There is no reason to pretend you don't like it or to be embarrassed."

He closed his mouth, looking as baffled as I have ever seen him. Perhaps my worldly wisdom was getting through.

"HA!" he laughed.

Alas, I had been incorrect in my analysis of Duo Maxwell's mind.

"You called me 'handsome.' Sure you're not even the least bit 'bi' there 'Fei-man? I mean--"

I didn't wait around to hear him say what he meant. He was only teasing and I'm not particularly adept at taking stabs at my manhood, no more than any man, I assume.

On our way to the hair boutique-slash-salon, we enjoyed describing what we thought the expression on Commander Une's face was going to be when she read our expense reports. She could probably staff the all of Preventers for a week for what it was costing her to outfit us for this mission.

Hair salons are detestable places, although the little girl who provided my manicure was efficient and skillful. That is all I will say on the subject of shopping. Well, except that I adjusted the purchases so that the final sums were comfortably "lucky," mystifying the others, I'm certain. Good, whether one believes in lucky numbers or not, it's best to be safe. Besides, they all have quirks I suffer through; I can have one of my own.

(o)

"Here is how the roles can play out, as I see it," Zechs said. "Quatre, you once worked in a house of a rich, prominent merchant, which explains why you are well educated and know art."

The intelligent, blue-eyed-blond-turned-green-eyed-redhead agreed with a nod as he toyed with his heavy, gold, heirloom bracelet. The _Fatamid_ Era piece was museum quality, adorned with elegant calligraphy and arabesque designs. It made a brilliant prop, complementing his exotic background. He gave it one last twirl then flipped through his note cards until he found the name of the art dealer.

"I accompany the sculpture from the 'purchase' location, to the 'loading' destination. We believe the Italian-based Royal Fine Art Trading Company is the fake art supplier and the destination is in New Germany someplace near Gunter's drug production facility, the precise location unknown still," Winner said.

"Gunter will supply the details, but I'd like to ferret out that information ourselves to place surveillance operatives. Whether or not that happens, Duo will accompany you as your business partner. He'll be wired and have complete infiltration instructions. We need to nail Royal. Records of transactions, names, dates, and amounts are important."

"Gotcha, boss," Duo said with a salute. "Quat's the class and I'm the thief."

"Luckily," Zechs said, smiling, "you both are intelligent, clever, tough, and tenacious. You make a natural team."

I knew better than think their pairing was "natural," and I had numbers to back me up. I hoped that perhaps for a short mission with a clear objective the two could get past their unlucky number combination.

"Are you certain you mean Winner and Maxwell?" I asked, archly.

Zechs didn't look up from his notes to see the amused exchange of expressions. With a hand, I covered a smile threatening to crack through my serious façade. I was still in awe of the changes manifest in my colleagues; their altered appearances were shocking.

Maxwell's eyes flashed and fists knotted as he prepared to defend his honor. Before my eyes I could see the fight going on in his head—_Scythe_ against Duo. Winner felt the undercurrent of humor and unrest, with that curious empathic sensibility of his. He touched his friend's arm to redirect his attention.

"Wufei was joking, Duo. I think we work well together, don't you? I'll feel safer with you watching my back-- I know I will."

"Huh?" Maxwell said retracting all his mental attacks.

Zechs cleared his throat and shook the papers in his hands. "Chang, you are from China, the youngest son of an illustrious clan who is sent to work for his drug lord uncle. This explains your martial arts training and experience as a guard."

"Drug lord uncle?!" I snorted. "I grew up on L5. I know nothing about current Earth's China that couldn't be torn to shreds in any interview. I could have thought up a more likely set of connections."

"I heard you got connected to a certain medical practitioner-- by a pair of handcuffs," Barton said in a conspiratorial manner. "You thought that one up?"

"That was an accident, and Doctor Po explained it all to you one day in unnecessary detail," I shouted.

"When did she do that?" Maxwell had not heard this story, apparently. "I missed a juicy story, or whatever, and it sounds kinky, 'Fei-man?"

"You may wipe that perverted grin off your face, Maxwell. What happened was far less interesting than what you are thinking."

"You know me that well?"

"Your overactive imagination, I am familiar with."

Once again, Zechs interrupted the barbed-wire-edged, yet humorous, banter. "Then, you will be from L5. Sadly for your illustrious family, its history and connections were all lost in the war."

"Hey, that's a background even you can't foul up," Maxwell said, laughing.

I ignored his comment as much as possible. "I work alone?"

"No," Zechs said with a widening smile. "Had I known how well you and Maxwell got along, I might have paired the two of you."

Maxwell had a field day with that one, laughing like a maniac. "'Fei's face is a portrait of horror. Munch's agoraphobia-anxiety ridden painting 'The Scream' comes to mind. What do you think Mr. Art-expert?"

Winner knew Zechs and Maxwell were both joking, of course, so he just laughed, but I noticed Barton observing the two friends.

"Studying up on your art?" he asked Maxwell.

"Yeah," Maxwell admitted with a shy smile, dropping his eyes. "Not one of my strengths. Got as far as Graffiti 101 as a kid."

Yuy's attention had never for more than a split second diverted away from Maxwell the minute we gathered at the kitchen table for this meeting. He appeared to study every reaction, each movement for a clue as to what the man was thinking. He should talk to Winner more. I'm sure Winner had a very good idea what made Maxwell tick and would tell Yuy, if the man asked.

Then, maybe not. I believe that Winner harbored deep-seated feelings for Maxwell. Barton, too, for that matter. Even Zechs seemed strangely intimate with him. I guess I was the only one not in love with the man. Devoted. Call me devoted.

"Well," Zechs continued, enjoying our reactions, I think, "You are a fast learner and the better sneak, so you accompany Winner. Moving on to Yuy--"

"What about my partner?" I pressed. Zechs could be more slippery than the eel on toast I'd had at the bar last time I ate.

"Not forgotten. Yuy, Gunter suggested that I find a way to include you specifically. Let me put this in his words; he called you 'the beautiful Asian boy who carried out_ Scythe_ in his arms like he was weightless.'"

Heero's eyes narrowed as if he were tuning into the conversation for the first time, which possibly he was. "He suggested I do what?"

"That I lend you to him. I told him, instead, that I had a job in mind. You were the son of a long-dead assassin, and are now a ruthless mercenary in my employ. You and Chang will ensure the drug transfers from its source into the artwork and then follow it to its final destination."

"Ironically, I performed the opposite task in the bust a month ago," I said to no one in particular.

"And get those army base locations," Zechs emphasized, staring Yuy down.

I could tell then that Zechs didn't think he had Yuy's undivided attention on this mission. Both men wanted command and neither were used to taking orders from the other, not to mention Yuy's obvious concern bordering on obsession with his lover's state of mind. Zechs gave up trying to bend Yuy's will, and continued talking.

"In trade, Gunter will get us into the upcoming trade show, including limited financial backing for us out of the drug profits, whatever it takes."

"He sounds desperate," I said.

"He is and so are we. This trade conference is like no other. It is an invitation-only event that brings together the movers and shakers in the boy-trade. The difficulty will be to carry out the drug transfer without interference from the local police or some other organization carrying out orders to bust the ring. We must use this opportunity for what it is, the chance to prove that you boys are the best and most reliable armed guards available on the market."

"And Trowa?" Winner asked. "You said none of us would work alone."

His caring for the other man was so transparent I ached for the both of them. I could not look at either Winner or Barton, instead, choosing to see how Zechs dealt with their relationship.

"I will partner with him," Zechs said. "Gunter times his moves all at once, it seems, so I expect he will move the remaining boys at the house as soon as word is out that the drug transfer is successful. Trowa and I will conduct the boys to safety."

"Won't that completely mess with the mission?" Maxwell asked what we all were thinking.

"Not if I play it correctly. By holding the boys for my own use, as insurance against his refusing to complete the deal, he will fold. He's powerful, but I will know all his secrets and be holding the cards."

For the first time in my life, Milliardo Peacecraft impressed me, but not Maxwell, apparently.

"Oh, well, give the man a rim shot... badda badda bash!" Maxwell said with finger drumming accompaniment from Trowa. "What if Alric-baby doesn't bow to the prince, eh? What if he sends his thugs after Trowa, or any of us, and just blows us away?'

"You will be armed and informed should the plans change," Zechs said evenly. "But they won't."

"You may have that fancy-ass psychology degree to hang on your wall, but you don't know shit about Gunter. The man is layered deep. I won't be a trophy in this game. I suggest you come up with a plan B or wait until we're at that flesh show until you have agents do the extraction."

"He will move the boys before the show," Zechs insisted.

"Trowa can get tracing devices to them, like he did before. Have the local Preventer agents earn their paychecks. They sure have been eager to get some action, nagging me just about every day for information. Include them. Let Trowa set them up, then get him the hell out of that fucker's house before he's fucked up or dead. Say you need him to roll druggies or be a bad-ass antiquities guard with me."

I nearly agreed with Maxwell. He had a good point, but as we all sat there he up and plopped himself astride Zechs' lap, wiggled his butt, and kissed the man, hard. Shocked and disgusted with the display, I did nothing but gape. I fully expected Yuy to make a move, but when he turned his head away, I exploded.

"Dear God, Maxwell, what are you doing?! You are practically married to Yuy!" I yelled, forgetting that Zechs probably wasn't privy to that information. Lucky for me, Yuy had already broken that news to him. I grabbed his shoulder and wrenched him off his perch. "It is bad enough that I've been dragged into this mission, that I must pose as drug smuggler, dress up like a rich tart, and live with the lot of you under impossible conditions, but I will not sit here while you carry on like some cheap whore in full view of everyone—"

I awoke a few minutes later, Barton clicking his tongue and changing the cool washcloth on my forehead.

"Where am I?"

"Your bed. Futon in the office. Get acquainted with it awhile longer while Yuy cools down."

"Ah." I determined that Yuy punched me. "But I was defending him."

"You insulted Maxwell. Believe me. Keep it to yourself."

"They are both insane."

Barton smiled that quick little smile of his like it might stick to his face if he held it an instant longer. "In love, undercover too long, and stressed to the limits. Yeah, insane. Zechs isn't too crazy about Maxwell's aggressiveness either, he says, but they have spent several months together pretending to be semi-lovers. Yuy's got it under control, most of the time."

"I can't wait to leave." I moaned and asked hesitatingly, "So, what happened after... I passed out?"

"I carried you here. Oh, before that, Zechs agreed to consider Maxwell's ideas. The guy can be persuasive."

I winced. "I hope you mean that on an intellectual level, Barton. I would hate to imagine you two twisting in the sheets to make points."

Barton chuckled. "With Winner in the house?! Not likely. He would kill me; Quatre, that is. No, Chang. Maxwell and I've danced and kissed as the job's required, but that's it. Maxwell's hot, though. Yuy's got his hands full."

I must have made a sour face, because Barton chuckled again as he left the room, closing the door behind him. Yes, this mission was going to be the death of me, or possibly of our friendships.

(o)

We hadn't long to wait. Gunter called the next day with places, names, and dates. Zechs reminded him that he was also in the arms business, and so, turned down any offers to loan us guns and ammunition. We had superior weaponry, but there was no reason to gloat to Gunter, or even scare him off.

I was relieved to hear that Winner and Maxwell were to leave the next day to the Royal Fine Art Trading Company. This was the business which had been founded by Giacomo Medici, the convicted Italian art dealer, and was now, we believed, the meeting place for the upper echelon of our drug-dealing enterprise. I was studying the surveillance feeds from next door with Quatre typing at the computer beside me, when the clicking stopped.

"Look at this!" he shouted.

I studied the photo of a grouping of middle-aged men. A partially visible, Roman-style column stood behind them. Sunlight. Flowers.

"Over exposed," I concluded.

"It's what I've been searching for! Look at the faces! That's Count Franco Giopinno, Frank Georgio, who we arrested buying the little boy named Jimmy. But that man beside him is his younger brother, Raphael Medici."

"I don't recollect his name coming up before," I said.

"That's because you haven't been researching New Germany art dealers. Duo and I have. Mr. Raphael Medici is known here as Franz Frolich. After his older brother, Giacomo, was arrested, he changed his name to protect his legitimate art businesses. Now, does that name ring a bell?"

I was on the secured line immediately. "Get Maxwell in here," I said to Winner. "Who are your contacts at the local agency?"

"Duo knows. Here he comes."

"Who has the fingerprint data from next door?" I asked Maxwell.

He didn't even ask why. He contacted the local Preventers agency office, and handed the phone back to me. Meanwhile, Winner showed him the photo and named the faces. Maxwell stared at the photo on the monitor then pointed to the lower left corner.

"What's the date on this? About twenty years ago? Okay, see that kid with the woman? Ten-to-one that's his son and the boy's name is Raul," Maxwell said.

"Yes, sent in by Agent Duo Maxwell. The man goes by the name 'Raul Frolich,' but we think his surname is really 'Medici.' I'll wait." I looked over at Winner and Maxwell. "The fingerprints were clear, but Raul Frolich hasn't any on record; in fact, they haven't anything on a Mr. Frolich."

"No surprise there," said Maxwell.

"They are running the comparison for the name 'Medici' now."

"Might as well get packed," he said, stretching and exposing more skin than I needed to see. "Good thing we did our shopping in town already, right Quat?"

"Yes. I had no idea we'd be well-heeled boy-toys guarding mock-art," Winner said. He ran a hand through his silky hair and tried to divert his eyes away from Maxwell. "Being the President **and** CEO of Winner Corps is sounding better everyday of this mission."

"Aw, Quat, you can't mean that. Think of the boring meetings and piles of paperwork!"

"Hmm," he said, smiling. "Sounds terrific. Boring, safe, normal. I could take that. Oh, well," he sighed. "You're right about the packing. We have a job to do. Even knowing about this connection, we still have to have proof of involvement."

I listened as the two close friends continued to converse on their way out of the room. They were interrupted by the entrance of Barton and Yuy. Winner's low chuckle bubbled up in response to some suggestive comment from his lover. The two walked hand-in-hand to their room next door. I reached to turn up my music in time to catch a tender moment between Yuy and Maxwell; another pair of lovers soon to be torn apart for the mission. I silently wished them all a good night so that they might heal their frazzled bonds.

Barton would stay on part-time at Gunter's. As he explained it, when new boys arrived, he would demonstrate how to swallow the transmitters and when then show them where he had hidden the tiny pills about the room, should he not be there when they are moved. He always promised them that freedom would come, but that they would have to continue to be patient, silent, and strong. Much like him, I thought to myself.

Later, according to the plan, Zechs would pull Barton to join us all for the drug loading, signaling the local Preventer's agency to trace, intercept, and secretly stash the boys in a new, safe location. The young boys would be used temporarily like hostages, but be free from molestation and eventually returned to their homes. Barton would be safe and Gunter would not know who was responsible. It wasn't the best scheme, but it would have to do.

I knew Yuy and I would plan our operation the next day, after the others had gone. I would train him how to behave like a drug seller, what to say, while pretending to be one thing and carrying out another. This was getting far more complex than initially planned. _Par for the course_, as Maxwell would philosophize.

I didn't feel social, so I called it an early night.

(o)

A few days later, we received word from Winner that the art replica had been purchased. "You should see _Hermes and Dionysius_; cast in plaster with good dimensions: full-size cast taken from the original; 170 centimeters, 5'6.9", high. Hermes (no Dionysius actually remained) here is rather more human than divine, with a languorous dreaming face. His body modeling is soft with almost effeminate, unpronounced muscles."

Maxwell tagged on his own comments. "The guy's hung, which made this statue more interesting than the other choice: Venus at her Bath."

To which Winner protested, "My choice was not an aesthetic one. Venus was only full-size cast of the original; 110 centimeters, 3'7.3", high with far less interior volume!"

Maxwell sent another message filled with more nonsense and photos of the two sculptures, which Yuy ran through his decoder. Embedded into the complex digital pictures were files of stolen data. I was once again impressed with his ingenuity as he messaged back and forth with Maxwell, collecting more information with each transfer.

"Wish I was there. Send travel pictures.—_Wing_."

"Oooh, baby! I got loads. Hope you have oodles of disc space. I got a few X rated of _Sand_ for _Tamer_. —_Scythe_."

Yuy seemed to understand him to mean the encrypted files would be sorted by importance, "X" rated being the most important and the first to decode.

"Will forward. He will want see those. How's your knee?—_Wing_."

"Knee's fine. Forgot my hair conditioner. _Sand_ says see you soon.—_Scythe_."

"What's that all about?" I asked Yuy.

"Old code he and I used to monitor one another's injuries. 'Fine' means no one is hurt, but 'forgot' means they had a close call. The 'see you soon' means that they are done and awaiting notification of their rendezvous point."

I watched as he downloaded more transmission, forwarding the "X" files to his personal laptop. He opened the first file in another window. We looked at a photo of Maxwell with his arm slung over Winner's shoulder; both were smiling and standing in front of what looked to be a flower shop.

"That's Royal Art with its front entrance inside that shop," Yuy said.

"I wonder who shot that?" I asked.

The answer was in the next picture. "That's Raul Frolich, the heavy from next door that started showing up around the time Strom was shot," Yuy said.

"That must have been their 'close call.' You don't think that Raul could link either of them with anything suspicious, do you?"

Yuy shrugged and clicked on the next file. "No, but I wonder if Gunter knew he'd be there or if he's got his own agenda. I don't need that worry." He closed the file. "We need to get at the embedded data stream. One more look and I start the analysis."

The next photo was of Winner, and very theatrical looking. I wondered if Maxwell took it, and if so, if he knew how talented a photographer he was. In the picture, Winner was leaning back in his chair. He had withdrawn and lit a slim, pastel lavender cigarette from a rainbow pack of Nat Sherman "Fantasias" and was smiling at the camera through a scrim of smoke.

"This is loaded with data," Yuy explained. "The smoky image is double embedded. This will take awhile to decode."

"You mean the photo was taken with the purpose of having a large field to store data?" I asked.

"Yes, Duo would have thought of the need."

"But it's a brilliant photo! Didn't you notice?"

"Is it? Barton will like it, but otherwise, no, it's okay."

"It's brilliant, Yuy! Not just 'okay' as you say. Maxwell is a genius!"

He looked at me with a woebegone expression. "Please do not tell him that."

"Why not? He could use a fun hobby…or maybe a job taking pictures," I wouldn't let this go, as if I was an agent who'd discovered a new talent, which, I suppose I was, literally. "Shall I relay these headquarters?" I asked.

Yuy nodded, lost in a network of numbers. I decided that I would talk to Maxwell at a later date, whether his possessive boyfriend did or not.

I heard the phone ring and moved to answer it as another cell phone buzzed behind me. Zechs was in the front room and reached that extension first. He signaled me to silence when I entered the room. Yuy crossed the threshold right behind me holding his cell phone.

"Barton just called. He says Gunter moves the boys tonight," Yuy said.

"Then, that must be Gunter talking to Zechs now with our orders," I said. I gestured for Zechs to listen a moment, and he placed a hand over the mouth piece.

"Yes?"

"Barton just called; he's moving all the boys tonight."

Zechs looked thoughtful a moment then said, "Gunter wants us to move tonight as well. Transfer drugs to a storage location where the art will be arriving and awaiting loading. I have an idea." He returned to his conversation with Gunter while Yuy and I waited apprehensively. "This it too important to take chances, Gunter. I want _Tamer _for the drug transfers. Send him over so he can pack."

I watched, tempted to run over and pull Barton immediately had Yuy not been standing there blocking my route to the front door. Zechs' grimace became a wry smile. "That would be satisfactory, Alric. Yes, I agree, he'd do well as a camp leader. Yes, I have the locations. I'll keep you informed. Good bye."

"Gunter argued then broke down to explain how he needs _Tamer_ to accompany a few 'needy' boys to camp. His excuse is that he recruits these street kids and sends them to camps, trains them for jobs, etcetera. Nice guy," Zechs said, pressing his lips together into a grim line.

"Which means precisely what?" I asked. I wanted everything clear. "Trowa stays with Gunter, alone? I won't permit--"

Further explanation was disrupted by another phone call on the secured line. I took that one. "That was a call from headquarters. The encoded data Maxwell downloaded from Raul's stolen CD has been decoded. There are locations, some dates, but mostly banks, objects and people transfers, marked separately because of differing transportation requirements. The data is being prepared for sending to us. Yuy, do we have a free computer to handle it?"

"Hn," he answered. "I'll take care of that."

Zechs jotted a few observations in his notebook beside the orders from Gunter. "These are the coordinates Gunter gave me for tonight's pickup and also the drop off points here… where you will be meeting up with Winner and Maxwell… and here where Trowa, the boys, and the final drug transfer will take place. All of you will accompany the sculpture containing the drugs and the 'recruits' to one of the 'camps.' Get back on the phone with headquarters and see if there are matches from the decoded data to these we've been assigned."

I took the notepaper from Zechs and connected again to the secured line to Preventers headquarters. Fifteen minutes later, we had matched one of the encoded locations with that of our final destination, which we believed would be one of the army training base locations. They were in the process of establishing satellite surveillance over those locations as we spoke, and they would continue to search for the other locations throughout the file and call us back later with the results.

Fine. I let them think they were helping, although the truth was they were wasting their time. I knew Yuy would get us that information faster once he received all the downloaded data.

Zechs silently moved closer to the computers and scanned the room feeds until he located Barton, who was walking down the hall and through the living room. When he entered the kitchen, where there were no cameras, we lost him.

"Now, we need the kingpin, and that will take getting that invitation and meeting the top man in charge of buying and placing boys in training camps. I promised Gunter safe delivery of the drugs in transit and the boys currently in his house in return for the highest ranking admission. Gunter agreed, if all goes well. As soon as you and Yuy depart, I'm joining Barton over there. He needs to come back here to pack, but after that I'll be with him until he links up with the rest of you," Zechs said.

"I will tell Winner and Maxwell. I am certain they will be relieved to know that, sir."

His eyebrows shot upwards into his silvery bangs. "I believe that's the first time any of you have called me 'sir' in this house."

It was the proper thing to do. He had gained my respect. I even bowed slightly before turning to my own packing needs.

We received another call relating the non-news that confirmed that Raul Frolich was the son of New Germany master art dealer, Franz Frolich, who, in turn, had been born Raphael Medici, the younger brother of Giacomo Medici the jailed art stealer/trader who was an longtime friend and associate of the jailed Count Giopinno. What a nice association of underworld scum to work with, but beyond that I had no idea what that information did for us. We would in time.

End, It's Back to Work, Chapter Seventeen


	25. It’s Back to Work Chapter 18

**DEFYING GRAVITY**

Part Two: It's Back to Work

**Chapter Eighteen**

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Gundam Wing or its characters, nor do I make any monetary profit off this story.  
Warnings: 1x2x1, 3x4x3, AU, yaoi, some language, violence and bloodshed  
--Kaeru Shisho 6/17/2007 Duo's charming POV

* * *

"There they are," Quatre said in a low voice, "looking all the world like a pair of very successful drug runners." 

"No shit. See any muscle around to schlep this baby for us?" I asked. I wasn't looking forward to mashing a finger or foot hauling Hermes.

Wufei and Heero smuggled the drugs from the pharmaceutical loading area to an off site warehouse. I assumed their part of the job had gone off without a hitch, because when Quatre and I landed at the shuttle shipyard with our crated Hermes sculpture the coast was clear, and our two friends were waiting, weapons drawn. Damned if they didn't both look sexy that way, all dangerous and grim.

All we had to do was un-crate Hermes and observe the loading of the packaged booty up Hermes hollow foot. And, yeah, I made the "talk about having a hollow leg" joke, which fell flatter than my first soufflé. Unfortunately, there were no lackeys to do the work, just Catter, me, 'Ro, and 'Fei.

"No goons, hoodlums, or other denizens of the underworld in sight," Quatre said. "I had expected Gunter to at least send watchmen to lurk in the background."

"He either trusts us or this is a setup," I said, voicing my opinion to anyone listening and hoping Heero was one of them. "How many were at your drug bust?"

"Nine," Wufei said. His smile was wistful. "Lucky nine." His eyes traced the horizon. "Trowa had better show soon."

"Nine! There's just four of us to do the work of nine?"

"Your Hermes holds half the volume of my David," Wufei said. "Less by the bag count."

"It was the largest piece of art available," I said, feeling a little defensive.

"I half expect to have Raul show up again," Quatre said, changing the subject. "He made me very nervous in Italy."

He blushed and met my eyes for a heartbeat before he looked away into the distance. "He never would tell us what his business was. I kept thinking he was spying on us for Gunter, but he didn't acknowledge us. The people at Royal knew him well enough, which makes me think he might have been spying on Gunter that day when Duo caught him copying that disc."

I looked at Heero, hoping to catch his attention, but with those damned reflective glasses on I couldn't tell if he was concentrating on me or not. His face was immobile. His expression replaced with a stone replica, too. "You hear back on any of that data or get it decoded?"

Wufei answered, "Enough to confirm that the location where we load the drug-filled sculpture and Gunter's boys for the shuttle was among the data points."

"We are expecting a report on the decoded data and data collected from Royal art files," Heero added. "I haven't have time to do the work myself."

"Didn't think you did." Man, was he ever tight—like I expected him to do all the work around alone. "You can only be in one place at a time."

Without a nod or word, he left to complete another perimeter search. Maybe he was unable to believe this wasn't a setup, maybe he wanted to avoid hard labor, or maybe he was mad at me for something. There was a little indiscretion, but he couldn't have known about that, so it had to be something else.

"Well, get over it, 'Ro," I muttered beneath my breath to his receding back.

(o)

That Raul dude had given both Quatre and me the creeps—a real slimeball. The head honchos at Royal were all slick, stab-you-in-the-back bastards that made us feel dirty to deal with. For instance, Count Giopinno was said to be– now think about it—_prominent_ in New Italy's politics. I mean, as my world-government-savvy bud tells me, that's just a contradiction in terms. There _are_ no politics here in New Italy. It's all mafia and underworld machinations.

We busted the count for trading as yet undetermined favors for little Jimmy Tulver at Gunter's estate. Undetermined, because the count's lips were sealed and still are. Now, this dude, Raul Frolich, shows up here as Quat and I picked out hollowed out a replica of a really well-hung male nude sculpture for transferring illicit drugs. Raul just appears out of the blue, but is it really _the_ blue? His father's really the younger brother of this jailed art huckster, Giacomo Medici, who is himself an old buddy of the count. But Raul works for Gunter, right? He also steals info off his hidden discs.

So, we got us a count awaiting trial for trafficking in the boy trade, who won't tell on Gunter, and we got us a questionable individual, Raul, who has links to both the count and to Gunter. Could it be that Raul wants more of the action? That he might be waiting his chance to cripple Gunter and be the new go-to bastard of New Germany? Shit, that dude's so slimy he can ooze through keyholes.

Which gets me back to Quatre and me hanging out after the deal was done. Raul had been unexpected-- by us. After watching him at Gunter's house over the feeds for weeks, I half thought we were old familiar combatants, but remembered that we'd never really met, unless it had been in some club and I forgot. I guess I looked at him strangely and he mirrored that; I don't know, but he made my skin crawl.

That night in our hotel room, Quatre cuddled with me on my bed for a long time. We both needed the contact and reassurance, something rarely received by undercover operatives. We talked about everything but the mission and day and the next day's prospects, trying to kick the stressful world aside for awhile. We also discovered the hotel's five-star liquor assemblage, all for our enjoyment and chilling in a mini fridge. I remember a bitter, herby-tasting _Centerba_ with an amazingly high alcohol content, followed by a dizzying succession of super sweet stuff. Lemons, cherries, almonds, licorice—gah!

Quatre could read the labels and selected the "best" ones, although he vowed over and over never to have actually consumed anything but the occasional beer in the past. Well, damn. I'm a bad influence. Add a little tonic water, mix with a Red Bull, and in no time we knocked back more than we should have. That was my excuse, not that I needed one.

"I will feel so much better when all those guys are behind bars doing time," Quatre said with a shiver. "At least during the war I didn't always have to face them. I could blow up their base of operations from afar."

"Yeah." _I couldn't agree more—without saying more and giving away that I should have drunk a hell of a lot less._

"Even as a Preventer agent, I get the satisfaction of cuffing the criminals."

"Yep." _Cuff'em to the bed posts…_

"Point a gun at their head and imagine firing—Ah, Duo?"

"Yeah, Quat?"

"Why is it we never fell in love?" Quatre asked.

"Ah…talk about switching gears there…um…" I said, head swirling with possible answers. I chose one. "Okay. We're both tooooo nice. What turns us on are the tough-to-read assholes, the guys that challenge us so we have to apply our outgoing personalities to open them up." _Man, was that ever deep._

"Why, Duo, you have given this a lot of thought!"

_Not a fleeting one!_ "I guess. I mean, you said you once had a crush on me, and that got me to thinking, ya know? I mean, you are damned attractive, sexy, the best friend a guy could ask for, intuitive out the yin yang—"

"Not to mention rich and well-grounded," he added with a wry smile.

"Right! You are unique among us!" I agreed. "So, like you were saying, why wasn't I infatuated with you, I mean, enough to break through all my inhibitions and mental road blocks and just catapult me out of the closet?"

"Maybe I should have made a move?" he asked, but not in any deep-meaning sort of way like he really meant he should have.

"Yeah, why didn't you ever jump me or make some move?" I grinned. "I'll tell you--"

"Because we're masochists that need emotion-damaged guys to jumpstart our libidos?" he asked. "Gods, that makes us sound like idiots. How depressing!"

I punched his arm in a friendly manner, and Quatre fell over me and kissed me. Yeah. When I got over that shock, he kissed me again. I returned it and one thing led to another. We lost our clothes and gave one another blow jobs. It was as if we had to give it a try then come to an understanding. the pressure release was amazing and my best bud was an artist.

"That was really special," he said. "You are very sweet, Duo Maxwell. Just as vocal as I expected, but not what I'm used to, at all."

"Hey, I can't help myself! You're a terrific lover, Quat. Blond, too, which is really a change for me."

I ran my hand over his abdomen, brushing the pale, pink-toned skin and fair hair. I was used to golden skin and an insistent, dark red cock growing from a nest of black hair.

He giggled, winced and rubbed his jaw. "It was kinda fun that we're so similar in height and weight, but different, too. You're really _large_."

_Stroke my ego more, will ya!_ "You gotta light touch."

"Not so much, but _he's_ very strong, I bet," Quatre said softly, avoiding names.

"Yeah, he tries to be gentle, but the man doesn't always know his own strength." I lay back and sighed, letting my mind drift for a minute, before saying, "You know, I really liked what we did, but…"

"But… I know, Duo. I can detect your stronger feelings, at times."

"Yeah. You feel the problem, too, don't cha?"

"Um, huh. I do. I love you and sex with you is really nice, but something's missing."

"Which in your case is Trowa. The man needs you bad."

"Yes," he said, his voice taking on a dreamy quality. "It seems strange thinking and talking about him like this now, when I'm in bed with you, but I'm really in love with him."

"Yeah, you guys just radiate good vibes when you're together."

"And so do you and Heero. He's crazy about you, Duo. You know that, right?"

"He'd have to be."

"And you know, each time you toy with Milliardo you are hurting Heero."

"I don't mean to. I just… I just… I don't know what happens except that to do what I do, stay deep undercover; I have to stay in my role. It's not always possible for me to switch out into reality and back."

"I feel that, too, and it hasn't been so long for me. I couldn't do this for a living, Duo. I need my reality so much it breaks through, where and when I want it to or not. This…this was good, though." He touched my hand to get me to look into his eyes. "You do this often, I guess?"

"Sex with my best friend?" I chuckled. "No, not with anyone. I'm not loose like you, heh, heh."

He punched me hard for that stupid joke, which was kinda true but not funny, and I apologized then went on, "Never, in fact, Heero was my first, Quat."

"But not your only."

"No." I smiled and caressed my friend's hip bone. "There's been you, but the one's on the job I don't count. They don't count. My mind wipes them out or I'd go crazy thinking about that. You, though, I'll remember you."

"I think he'd understand if you told him you wanted to wait a little longer before making a permanent commitment. We are all so young."

"'Ro? No, he wouldn't. He's very possessive. He wouldn't understand even **us **doing this." I patted his thigh and turned away, pulling the covers over our shoulders.

"You'll tell him, of course."

"No."

I thought about my answer, or was going to, but I passed out about that time; at least, I don't remember any further intelligent conversation. I do remember being rudely awakened as the blankets were ripped off the bed. Quatre was showered, dressed and packed way too early in the morning. He snapped shut his cell phone.

"We have our marching orders, Duo."

"Fuck."

My mind remained in a fog as I staggered to the shower. Why did I drink so much while on a mission, I alternatively wondered and chastised myself? Oh, release. Relief. Well, that was short-lived and now it was payback time. With all the anti-drug serums coursing my system, why wasn't there an anti-alcohol one in there as well?

Quatre helped me with my hair, later, after I was dressed. He was anxious to leave, said the minimum, and wasn't as gentle with the comb out as I could have used. My head throbbed. It was almost like Heero was there.

"We can grab a cappuccino and sweet pastry in the lobby," he said.

He did not once meet my eyes. I knew something was wrong. Immediately I assumed he regretted the night before, either the drinking or the sex, or both.

"Catter, don't let last night get to you, okay? We're still good, right?"

He sighed and ran his fingers through his own long, artificially red hair. "Yes, Duo. No regrets, really. It's just—"

"You didn't go call Trowa?!"

"Yes."

"Oh... That is bad in so many ways, Quat, and you know it! We are all pretty deep undercover. Personal calls aren't a good idea when one could endanger our lives."

"I know that!" he snapped. "I used the code names; it was brief. I had to tell him what happened and that I loved him."

"And?"

"He wasn't free to talk, but I think he sounded okay."

"And that was it? No other calls?"

"No, well, he put Milliardo on and that's when I received our next orders. I didn't tell Heero, if that's what you are thinking!" he said, anger in his voice.

I was, but hearing the hurt in his voice and the anger, I wouldn't admit it in a million years, but I couldn't deny it either.

"Thanks, well. I hope Trowa doesn't find a way to take me out, as in permanently out of the picture."

"He wouldn't hurt you!" Quatre said, shocked at the thought, until he looked me in the eye, finally, and saw that I was attempting to joke about it. "He thinks you're pretty sexy, anyway. He just might try and even the score."

Okay, that surprised me. I ran into the door on the way out, swearing never, ever to overindulge again. It was worth it, though; I made Quatre crack up. I'd have broken my arm to hear Quatre's musical laughter again. I didn't want him mad at me, so I didn't tell him I thought he was taking Trowa's good nature for granted. He shouldn't have any distractions on the job and he shouldn't have to worry about his boyfriend having sex with his friends. I wanted to strangle Quatre, but a little voice in my head told me to play it cool and wait.

(o)

"It is quiet," Wufei said.

I returned jarringly to the here and now, my internal alarms set off by the tension in Wufei's voice. He looked different. His hair was loose from its tight ponytail. Straight, shiny, and black as a raven's wing, it hung past his shoulders. It must have bothered him, because he brushed it over an ear irritably every few seconds. He wore reflective, dark glasses with night-vision capability, which matched Heero's. Combined with the grim expressions, the tense shoulders, and the outrageous number of arms the two men carried, they looked like dangerous hit men, which they were.

Heero returned from his patrol with a terse report. "No activity. Get this crated and call for a loader. Shuttle launch is on schedule."

I had it three-quarters of the way crated, asshole, I thought. "I could use a hand here."

"But Tr- _Tamer_ hasn't called!" Quatre said. He pushed and I pulled the crate toward the ramp leading to the shuttle storage bay. "Maybe they changed plans to move the boys with this shipment."

"I wouldn't assume that. Damn!" I shouted, pulling a splinter out of my finger. "This would be so much easier wearing overalls and gloves. Ah, we're on a private chartered shuttle. I don't think Gunter has changed his plans; he hasn't got that much money to throw around. Hold it, Catter."

I hopped over to the mechanical loader, triggered the engine to start, and rode it over to the crate. Quatre shouldered part of the crate and I shoved the rest onto the loader arms. With the skill of a union laborer, I jiggered the levers and hoisted the crate to the top of the ramp. All the was left to do was to jostle old Hermes into the shuttle payload bay and secure it with the lock down strapping to the inner walls. Quatre heaved and I ho-ed.

"Chartered, you mean just for us?" Quatre asked, a trifle breathlessly.

"Us, a small fortune in drugs, and enough guns and ammunition to start a small war."

I sucked on my sore finger wondering if there was a first aid kit on board, but my eyes were on Quatre. He seemed lost in thought, drifting away to the wide open doors, watching for Trowa to appear. I doubt he even heard my answer. Heero and Wufei were listening, though.

"What do you mean?" Heero and Wufei pressed in around me.

"I recognize the shuttle name as one of the common charter companies, rather than one of the regularly scheduled—"

"Not that," Heero snapped. "We didn't load guns and ammunition."

"**_You_** didn't load a fucking thing," I snapped back like a territorial little bitch. I could do attitude, too, if that's what he wanted.

'Fei stood between us, keeping us an arm's length apart. "What about the guns, _Scythe_?"

"Didn't you catch a look at the rest of the payload while conducting those exhausting perimeter checks? Look way in the back, closely, and tell me those aren't weapon boxes."

Heero rocketed himself into the back to inspect the contents the boxes. With Wufei guarding 'Ro, I joined Quat' at the payload bay door. A limousine pulled into the restricted aircraft parking space, the same car that hauled us to Alric Gunter's Valentine's Day party.

"Trowa," Quatre whispered, barely concealing his relief as our friend climbed out of the rear passenger compartment. Behind him followed three boys. One looked to be taller than Heero and Wufei. _Must have been a tight fit in back_.

"_**Tamer,**_" I said in a louder voice.

"Yes, _Tamer_, sorry."

Yeah, I was right not to worry about Trowa. He just showed up closer to shuttle launch than we'd hoped he would. From my angle I could see Trowa unload heavy-looking duffle bags from the trunk: one for each of the boys and two of his won. Milliardo's head with his silvery hair was just discernable from the front. He had driven, replacing Gunter's usual chauffeur. I assumed Gunter was in the front passenger seat, but that side of the car was away from us.

I waved to Mill, who signaled in return. Everything was A-okay. Trowa slammed the truck closed. The car turned in a smooth arc then drove off, leaving us with the shuttle staff and three frightened boys. Seeing the forlorn looks on their faces reminded me that this mission was not over. We had more to do before we could start celebrating.

Quatre was the last to board the shuttle, following Trowa and the boys as they headed toward the crew compartment. The thermal seals on the external payload bay doors suctioned shut, providing us an airtight environment within the bay. Heero 'Fei, and I were alone.

Heero was breathing down my back. "I don't know how you knew about those boxes, but you were right."

"I just keep my eyes open, _Wing_. I climbed in with the loader and lined up the crate with Hermes, remember? Oh, yeah, you missed the heavy work." _Hey, I'm actually competent at my job, remember guys_? "Anyway, while I was standing there, I took a look around. Got this, too."

"What's that?" Fei asked as he tore the crisp paper out of my hand. "A packing list? What arms smuggler uses packing lists?"

Okay, so I had to show off. "Me."

That brought down the house, or would have had we been in theater. Heero's dark aura was oppressive; his words came out in snarls. Wufei barked at me. There was no shortage of voice in the restricted space. Both were having an awful row, each straining at his leash to see who could get the bigger bite out of my ankle.

"Shut up and give me a chance to explain, goddamnit!"

Silence labored against the rising whine and thrumming of the engines gearing up for takeoff.

"Remember _Wind'_s supposed to be in the illegal arms trade? While we weren't slumming it up, he had me rig a few deals to make him look like a legit black marketer. Looks like Gunter's one that took the bait. Save that paper and I can trace it back to the code name he used to place the order."

"But how did you know…? What made you think a stunt like this would work?" Heero was either mad or impressed.

"Just a hunch. No harm no foul if he didn't nab it."

"So, this was just luck?" Heero asked, his tone inconclusive: Duo's brilliant or Duo's an idiot.

"Well, it is order number 99898. What do you think, _Shen_?"

Wufei's jaw dropped. It really did. Did he really think I didn't know about his Chinese lucky number idiosyncrasies? Guess so. Everybody underestimates me, like I've pointed out before.

"Pilot wants us seated and belted in," Trowa told us, appearing out of no where. "_Sand_ and I are in back with the kids."

Heero acknowledged him with a customary "Hn" then pressed the airlock, closing off the crew compartment from the storage bay and sealing the hatches. My ears plugged up with the pressurization. Things were going great.

We settled into seats in front of Trowa and the others. Heero sat on the outside, I picked the seat across from him, and Wufei chose one in front of Heero. Okay, things were bothering me. Several things.

Like, my boyfriend was tense, angry, and taking it out on me. That I could almost deal with, but seeing those kids jarred my guts. I was delivering three boys into the hands of the enemy in every way as dangerous as any I'd been forced to face. I was bringing them along with the drugs and tools to mold them into killing machines to a place out of hell. That had been done to me, to Heero and to Trowa to make us into Gundam pilots so I knew what they were in for. They didn't. The kids sat there smiling and trusting Trowa to take care of them. I was sick, and I bet he was too. I twisted around in my seat and leaned over the back within inches of Trowa's face and waited until I could see his eyes meeting mine.

"I can't do this."

"Me neither."

"New plan."

"Count me in."

"Me, too," whispered Quatre.

"Back in a sec!"

Outside the shuttle, a tug-ship nudged our ride into launch position, rocking us slightly. I worked with that, lurching to the side so that I nearly fell out of my seat and into Heero's lap. Sloppy, but it got me where I needed to be.

"_Wing_, how many others on board?"

"_Scythe_…"

"Pilot, co-pilot, and a navigator 'slash' armed guard," Wufei answered.

"Can you take them out while I take over the controls?"

"At lift off? That's dangerous!" Heero growled, but in an ordinary way.

"It's when they'll be most vulnerable and inattentive. _Wing_, I can't deliver those boys to their doom. We'll do the rest of the delivery, but hold them. Just like I thought _Wind_ was going to do. We'll hold them until we get that invite and then draw it out as long as we can. Gunter's not going to endanger everything over that. We know too much to risk it all on a couple boys-- boys, which Mill will turn over sooner or later as far as Gunter's concerned. Come on…"

I knew I had them. I'm irresistible when I'm right. 'Fei and 'Ro exchanged glances, divvying up the three men. Wufei checked his watch and held up three fingers.

Heero said, "Top level. I go right."

I pulled my own gun from my shoulder holster and wiggled my fingers to set them over the trigger area, waiting for the count.

"One—"

I stood and signaled Trowa and Quatre with a thumbs up. Heero and Wufei were out of their seats, slinking up the center aisle of the passenger mid deck all the way to the stairs by the count of "two." On "three," they raced up the short flight of stairs to the flight deck, where the three targets were in the last 30 seconds of countdown to lift off.

Wufei slammed the navigator into the wall, grinding his back into the emergency exit controls, before taking him out with a lightening fast blow. Heero cold-cocked the pilot and was hauling his limp body out of his seat, when the co-pilot came to life, drawing a stun gun from under his seat. A precisely placed kick from Fei's right foot struck the man's hand, sending the freed gun flying into one of the windows. Thankfully the material didn't crack.

Trowa dragged the pilot away and Quatre helped Wufei carry out the navigator. Heero rounded up the stricken co-pilot and pushed him out of the compartment, while I set my gun aside and tackled the controls. First thing, I checked our destination.

"All right, course entered and cleared."

That was a big relief. I didn't know how I would have gotten that information without drawing suspicion from the tower. My license was still good, but a sudden change in shuttle staff would have been remarkable, and we didn't need anyone interfering now. Next, I found our position in the countdown. With ten seconds to lift off I knew my buddies wouldn't have time to buckle in. We didn't need to add multiple injuries to our problems, so I quickly weighed then accepted some risk as I coded in a one minute delay. That drew a response from the tower.

"This is tower watch ten-sixty. Acknowledge the reset. Clear for sixty and counting down, shuttle two-niner-eight."

"Two-niner-eight. Passenger had to take a piss. Thanks, ten-sixty."

I could hear the very human chuckle over the communications crackle. "Damned passengers, eh?"

"Yeah, make our jobs a whole hellova lot simpler without them," I said, joking in return. Keeping it light put everyone at ease.

I felt Heero's warm breath near my ear and a strong arm reach around me to buckle up my harness. "They're locked in the lower level equipment bay. Safe. Everything okay? We should have taken off by now."

I rubbed the back of his hand, still concentrating on reading the furiously changing readouts as the shuttle restarted its launch routine for the final seconds. His presence, the warmth of his skin both reassured me of his feelings.

"All is green for go. I just got us a delay of launch— only a minute. You have… forty seconds to get your ass parked."

"Aye, aye, flyboy," he said with a slight squeeze of my shoulder. "Thanks."

"You bet. Can't have bodies flying around at take off. Thirty, _Wing_."

One last pat then he slid into the co-pilot's seat. He strapped himself in with a smile. "It's been a long time. Let me do this."

"Sure," I said with a smile. "Thanks for backing me on this, I just couldn't—"

"I know. Twenty. The temps running high on that valve."

I adjusted the airflow and watched the dial move down. "Ten seconds, everybody. Hold on tight!"

Like riding a Gundam, a very complicated, big, clumsy Gundam. The take off was smooth as my lovers ass, which wasn't so very far away as I thought about it. We cleared the station and escaped the atmosphere.

"Where are we going?" Heero asked.

"Colony 56."

"There's a camp there? I didn't think that was habitable."

"Well, someone's gone to a lot of trouble to make it so, apparently. We gotta ETA of two hours."

Heero reached into the overheard storage compartment. "Let's see what the boys brought for breakfast."

The two hours passed with Heero and me chatting in a companionable manner. Whatever dark cloud had hung over us earlier had wafted away in the rush of activity. Wufei, Quatre, and Trowa took turns guarding the captives, tending the boys, and visiting us. In the cockpit, we could speak freely and so we discussed what we'd do once we landed.

"I feel bad about the pilots. They're just with the shuttle service," Quatre said. "The agent in me says to just flash my badge and demand they turn it over to us. I have the authority."

"But that so-called navigator works for Gunter," Trowa put in. "If he knew we were with Preventer's our cover would be blown."

"You're sure?" Quatre asked.

Trowa nodded. "I said so, didn't I?"

The sharpness in his tone was not lost on his boyfriend, who flushed with shame. "I-I wasn't doubting your word. I don't know him. He is someone you've seen about the house, then? I didn't recognize him from any of the camera feeds."

Trowa shook his head fractionally. "At club Oz. He sat at Gunter's table a few times. I got a good look at him."

Trowa glanced over at Quatre and the two shared a private moment, ending when Trowa rubbed his thumb over Quatre's bracelet, slipping under it to caress the delicate pulse point at his wrist.

"Then he probably wonders what the fuck we're doing," I said in a loud voice.

"I miss tennis." Quatre sighed hugely.

"Hoops."

"Running," Heero added. "I haven't run in weeks."

"All we've got is sex," Trowa said. I felt his eyes bore into the back of my head. I concentrated on the monitor display of the system readouts just above the front-facing window out. He added carefully, "At least, some of us."

I caught myself from meeting anyone's eyes, especially Quatre's and Heero's. It wasn't fair to make that dig. "Dancing. Don't forget that aerobic activity."

Trowa checked his watch. "Time to trade. You or me?" he asked his lover.

"I'll go. The boys were asking for you."

Trowa and Quatre left the cockpit and in a few minutes, Wufei joined us.

Wufei sniffed. "I already miss the dojo."

"Don't we all," I said. "Exercise, fresh air, our house. Don't get me thinking about what I can't have yet."

Wufei settled himself into the navigator's empty seat. "I've been thinking about how this will go down when we land. We must keep the hatches sealed, closing off the crew compartment from the storage bay, possibly freeze the mechanism so they can't be forced open. With the three shuttle hostages in the lower level and the boys in here, we only need one of us to stay and guard them, leaving four to unload the payload and deliver the bad news about the 'missing' boys."

"I suggest Duo remain on board, ready for take off. We may have to make a break for it if our contacts at the base don't believe our story."

I didn't like that, but I couldn't argue Heero's logic. I was the only one of us able to affect an emergency launch, under manual controls, in under a minute. If we had to make a fast getaway, I was the man.

"I still should be armed," I said, relinquishing all my arguments and being the model team player.

"Of course," Wufei said, acknowledging my reasonable request with deference.

"So, the four of us unload—" Heero began.

"_Sand_ suggested that we should look like well-armed supervisors and guards, get them to unload, doing the inventory as we go. When everyone's off the ship, we close up and take off. We can discuss the fall out with Gunter over the phone," 'Fei said.

"Sounds better than trying to hold off a standing army," Heero agreed.

"We have about twenty minutes until I have to bring us into the receiving bay. Time to boogie, boys," I said.

A few minutes later, Heero nudged my arm. "_Shen _and _Tamer_ opened the duffle bags. I'm outfitted. Your turn. Go get ready. I can handle the ship."

"Yeah, guess you can. Thanks."

Trowa threw me a tactical vest before I reached the mid compartment. He held a com unit in his hand and fiddled with it as I stripped off my suit jacket and changed. I picked up a Glock 23, shoved it into a holster at my hip, trading out for the one I'd brought and caught a rifle that Trowa threw to me. I looked the rifle over and smiled. It was Colt CAR-16 with an ACOG scope and a surefire light. I checked the chamber and gave it a thorough check before loading and unloading it, setting the safety and putting the magazines in the bulletproof vest.

"Sweet. I usually use H&K MP5's but I've always preferred the CAR-16, even if it is a little louder," I said then grinned. "Maybe because it IS a little louder."

Trowa shrugged stoically and turned away. I guessed I wasn't his favorite person right now. I jammed my arms back into my suit, adjusting the fit, which was a little snug now.

"Hey, _Shen_! We're outfitting ourselves pretty tightly for this maneuver. How does this rate up with your raid?"

"Some my team members were Preventer's Tactical Forces and customs agents; it was a joint raid and we out numbered the drug runners three to one. This has the potential to be much worse in every way."

"Why do you think that?" Quatre asked. "We're ex-Gundam pilots!"

Wufei looked up as I did to where Quatre was digging around in the bag for another clip of ammunition.

"Not something you should announce, _Sand_," I reminded him with a tilt of my head in the direction of the seated boys.

"Oh! Sorry!" he said.

I pointed toward rear of the shuttle where the crates were stashed. "Open up the air lock and take a look, _Sand_, but be quick because we'll be landing in—"

"Ten!" Heero shouted over the roar of the side rockets making minute changes to our approach.

I heard Quatre let out a low whistle as I made my way up the stairs to relieve Heero. He could pilot, sure, but I was licensed and in practice. There was no reason to break any more rules than necessary.

"Looks like the perp runs guns as well as drugs and boys," Quatre said.

"Which means," Wufei said, taking up his argument again, "this will be a more dangerous drop off than we thought. Most dealers will shoot in fear and try to hide their drugs. Drug runners trafficking guns would rather shoot you than let you take their guns. They have a stock in their guns as well, and certainly don't want you to get away with their second way of making a living."

"Secure for landing!" I shouted.

After we landed, I ran through the partial shutdown of the engines. Through the thick, triple-paned window, I could make out our welcoming committee jogging and rolling to the loading zone. Twelve men carrying weapons, a mechanical lift to remove the Hermes crate, motorized trolley for the boxes of weapons, and a bruiser the size of Atlas carrying a clipboard.

I left the engines cycling for immediate re-launch, unbuckled the safety straps which were a part of the pilot's seat, and skipped down the short staircase to see the others off. I looked over at Heero, who was checking his equipment. He was now dressed in full raid attire under his expensive suit and looked cold and hard. I could see the way the rest of the team members looked up to him and it made me weak in the knees.

I made my way closer and stood beside him as Wufei gave out instructions on what he had planned. I told them about the group waiting for them outside and Quatre fine-tuned the job assignments. Heero sketched a quick map of the warehouse bay, while listening to me.

"This where they are? Where did they enter? Any other doors?" he asked.

I have an excellent memory and told him everything I saw in the few minutes after landing. He nodded, made notations, then interrupted Quatre and Wufei. He was so sure, so strict about what he wanted and he was so fucking confident. They arrived at a joint agreement. I looked up as Heero stood in front of me.

He smiled and said, "You know I love you."

"I know." I acted like he was telling me that the grass was green.

"You're such an asshole sometimes."

"Hey," I smiled. "I know that, too."

I leaned in and captured his lips in a kiss. "I love you, too, so be careful."

"I'm always careful."

He stood as Trowa opened the airlock. Trowa, Quatre and Wufei disappeared from my view then Heero was gone. The door snapped shut. I'd forgotten the boys were there, huddled together watching, until I heard one gasp at the blast to the door control panel. I could smell the sizzle of melted circuitry.

"Well, we're locked in now," I told them, smiling. "Um, you can call me _Scythe_, Duo for short. I'm your pilot."

"Which one were you?" one of the boys asked.

"Which one of what?"

"We heard him. He said you'd been Gundam pilots!"

Damn if Quatre hadn't said that and the kids listened! When did kids ever listen? Anyway, he'd been right when he said he'd make a terrible UC agent.

"He's 02, dummy!" the boy beside him said. "Duo means 'two.'"

"He kissed that other one," whispered the youngest boy.

"He flew _Deathscythe_!"

"Oh! Wow, cool!"

I scratched my head and realized my braid wasn't tucked beneath my coat. I remedied that oversight and smiled. "You guys are pretty sharp. Yeah, Deathscythe…that was me. Listen, this is a dangerous situation, so I'll need you to pay close attention when… shhhhh!"

I paused hearing something. I dashed to the tiny observation window in time to see Heero already moving out, circling left until he was blocked from my view behind the men unloading the crate. The gun boxes were next. The man with the clipboard jabbed his sausage-sized finger at his clipboard. Wufei hollered at the perpetrators to drop their weapons. Trowa and Quatre hopped to the ground, fanning out alongside Wufei. The action moved, taking place out of sight from the window. I was about to climb back up into the pilot's seat and call it a day, when gunfire erupted from the payload chamber and the airlock panel burst apart.

The door opened a few inches, a gloved hand pushing it further. I heard the short bursts of an AK-47 and tried to keep the three boys on the cabin floor. I found the source and fired back, hitting the suspect in the chest. I moved in, kicked the rifle out of his dead hands and turned, seeing the door open slightly. I opened it with the end of the rifle, nudging a woman backwards away from the passenger compartment.

"On your knees and hands above your head!" Wufei shouted from the bay. He bound her wrists with a set of ties and looked at her. "Lie down on the floor and don't get up until someone comes to get you or you'll be just as dead as your friend there."

She nodded her head nervously, tears running down her cheeks. I heard more yelling, but the gunfire had stopped. I made my way back through the ruined door, grabbing the feet of the dead man and pulling. I was surprised when the older boy clutched the man's arms and helped me slide him alongside the frightened, captured woman.

I thanked the kid with a lopsided smile, which he returned before skittering back to his seat. I heard Heero's voice saying that the warehouse had been contained, for the moment. Trowa and Quatre climbed into the shuttle and hauled the woman and dead man out.

"Move it _Scythe_!" two voices shouted.

I had that ship launched into space so fast I left nearly a dozen stomachs back at the army training site. We took a few nicks to the shuttle's outer surface, which would keep the boys in the maintenance bay working over their spring break, most likely.

When we were out of range from retaliatory ships in orbit, had there been any, I turned on the autopilot and hopped down for a chat with the others. Heero had his cell phone in hand.

"Good. I was about to call _Wind_ with our news."

"This I have to hear. Go ahead. Better you than me, that's all I've got to say.

"Yes, get this over with," Wufei said.

"_Wing _here. Fine. Delivery done, mostly. What do I mean by that?" he said to let us know what was being said on the other end. _"Wind_, we have the boys. That's right. No, it was a mutual decision. Mutual, as in all of us agreed to do this. Okay, what we want is for you to find them a safe place, and tell Gunter... Yes, we'll let you do that. You are welcome."

Heero chuckled. "Yes, this is that _Wing_ speaking. Not a drop. Tell Gunter that once the conference is over, we will personally deliver the boys to their summer camp, but until then, consider them our insurance policy. Make it a nice camp with their guardians, if you can locate them. Yes, there were challenges. Well, none of us ever had to worry about damaging our $4000 suits during the war. What was that number, you ask? Four grand, but the accessories added up to… _Wind_?" Heero cracked a smile. "Lost the connection."

One of the boys pointed at him. "And that's Heero, 01. He flew Wing."

"That's so cool!"

"He kissed 02, though."

"Shuddup. Which one was Chinese?"

"05, the pilot of Shenlong."

"I saw a picture of 04 and he was blond."

"They're undercover, you idiot!"

Wufei was sputtering something about losing his identity, or something.

End, It's Back to Work, Chapter Eighteen


	26. It’s Back to Work Chapter 19

**DEFYING GRAVITY**

Part Two: It's Back to Work

Chapter **Nineteen**

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Gundam Wing or its characters, nor do I make any monetary profit off this story. Warnings: 1x2x1, 3x4x3, AU, yaoi, some language  
--Kaeru Shisho 6/17/2007 Heero's tense POV

* * *

Alric Gunter was not pleased with our sudden decision to hold his "camp boys" for ransom, but seeing how we had delivered his drugs and the weapons as promised, I think he believed Zechs was a shrewd black-market businessman. 

Gunter was panicking. He visited us once at the house, hand delivering us our admittance forms for the conference. He waited for Zechs to fill out the required parts and asked to see us and "his boys". This was of course denied him. Without a fight, he left, promising to return soon. The next afternoon Gunter presented the expected invitation to Zechs, including fully paid entrance fee receipts, accommodation arrangements, and points to our credit—papers, we were told, which we would be required to show for admittance. Zechs asked Gunter about the significance of the points.

"You will be able to skip the tedious, newbie competitions going on now and walk right into the finals," Gunter said. "Dress well."

The man didn't know when to leave. He asked again to see "his boys," to which the answer was a firm "No, not until we had all returned from the conference."

He intruded into Duo's personal space as far as possible, and Zechs firmly showed him the door before I had the chance to kill the pervert. We had two days to travel and prepare ourselves. Two stressfully busy days to secure the house, lock up the computers, pack our clothes, and re-test the decorative "dog collars" I had had made while still working at headquarters and had brought with me when I first arrived at the house.

Each piece of neck wear was a brilliant marvel of technology. They contained the latest in sophisticated, waterproof, pressure-tolerant (up to 5 miles or zero gravity,) shockproof, miniaturized communication and surveillance equipment. The tags contained complex homing devices should one of us become separated from the rest. Once locked in place, only Lady Une, our commander, could remove them without damage using a unique device designed for that exclusive purpose. They could be cut and damaged, I suppose, but they were beautifully crafted. No one would purposely want to ruin a piece of art.

At the back of the neck near the closure, hung a tag inscribed with our code names: _Scythe, Sand_, and_ Tamer_. Since the inclusion of Wufei and I, instead of Edwards and Moore, meant that the name tags for us were incorrect; Zechs had ordered replacements. The new id tags with Wufei's and my code names arrived while we had been on the drug transfer mission. Zechs exchanged the former agents' name tags with "_Wing_" and "_Shen_." Even Zechs had one with the name "_Wind,_" so that we were all linked for the show.

A limousine arrived the next day to take us to the airport, where we boarded a private Lear jet. We were not told our destination or ETA, so we settled in for a long ride, taking turns on watch. Late afternoon turned to night then dawned bright.

"That's Marrakech, Morocco," Winner announced as we entered our landing pattern.

"You are pleased with this information?" I asked.

"Yes! The Kingdom of Morocco is for the most part Arabic. So am I, although I look more like my mother, who was not dark. Not only is our location being transmitted through our collars by satellite to Commander Une, but, in my case, my self-proclaimed, personal bodyguards, the Maguanacs, are certainly tracking us too." He smiled my way. "They know this territory well, even though they were headquartered on L4 with my father. They have many, many contacts here."

"The corps has proved to be highly capable in the past," I said, but I didn't return the smile. I didn't mind having them looking out for our welfare, even if it was Winner who was their primary concern. "They must not reveal themselves or your identity in their eagerness to assist."

"Oh, no. They can be very discrete. I did tell them I was on a covert mission. I wouldn't mess this up due to an oversight like that." His tone was sharp and hurt.

Hurt was good. He had hurt me, too. He had taken advantage of Duo's unbalanced state, put them both into a situation that would lead to sex between them, and introduced alcohol into the mix. Duo, I could forgive, but not Winner. I must as much into my stare as I could, which was enough for him to turn away flushed.

From the private hanger we were escorted to a waiting limousine and from there we followed the Route to Casablanca, heading towards the outskirts of the city, approximately 10 kilometers to Octagon Earth, Resort and Spa. Sand, sun, sand, heat, sand, palm trees, sand, swimming pools. In the distance soared the snow-capped Atlas Mountains. For a moment, I pictured Duo, hair free, swimming exquisitely naked in a gigantic pool.

We were not offered that choice immediately. Instead, on our arrival, hotel escorts met us and demanded "papers" from Zechs. When the weasel-faced character in charge of the guest list was satisfied that all was in order, he called for bellhops to carry our bags, wishing us all a lovely stay, as he turned his attention to the next arrivals.

I noticed Duo picked up a couple of brochures from a rotating stand. He opened one and started to browse the pictures. As the bellhops led us with pasted-on smiles to our "conference villa," I read over his shoulder. "Surrounded by 12 acres of land, the resort was made up of several complexes." Apparently, our octagonal styled mansion was "one of seven, known as 'ryads' in traditional Moroccan style" grouped in the "conference villa," which was isolated from the other "villas".

I immediately set out to identify the inmates of our neighboring villa mansions. I found many attractive boys and young men parading around in various states of undress. Exits were blocked by sturdy gates, guards, and alarms—no cameras, interestingly enough. It appeared that our "villa" housed all the attendees, sellers and products for the conference. When I returned to our mansion, it was empty. I found a note Duo left on a pair of swim trucks, presumably mine, accented with a cocktail stick:

_**P O O L ! **_

I stripped, yanked on the trunks, and dashed out the door.

We were not alone. The pool was adorned with some of the other boys, more arriving all the time. Chang and I stood out, with our darker skins and hair. The others were mostly blond, red-haired, or, like Duo, streaked brown. No one had a braid like his. Or his eyes. Or smile. Or ass, which would someday be mine alone.

I noted Zechs stretched out on a lounge chair nearby. His hair was wet, shimmering, so he had just gotten out of the water and sat down. He leaned closer to another man to his left, also lounging, in order to hear better over the piped-in music. I didn't know the other man, but guessed that it was another seller at his level in the boy-trade business supervising his merchandise chilling in the water.

"Yo, _Wing!_"

My attention riveted onto Duo, floating in an inner tube on his back, braid coiled on his chest, and surrounded by a fleet of eager-looking young men. My immediate thoughts were of our vacation, the snow tubing, and how winning Duo's love drove me to distraction. He waved and smiled, beckoning me to join him. I dove to meet him, wishing I'd gotten there sooner.

I surfaced and bobbed behind a wall of male bodies, hidden from Duo's view. Winner, I recognized, was floating alongside Duo. His tube spun lazily, the sun glinting off his artificial red hair. Duo and I had not yet spoken about his Italian job. I had been gruff with him during the drug move, but I could never remain angry with Duo. Never. Besides, I had Winner to blame, and there he was-- unaware.

(o)

When we received that unexpected call from New Italy, I knew it was bad news. Undercover operatives rarely placed good-news calls. I hoped no one was injured and that the mission wasn't compromised. Barton had been disturbed by Winner's call; enough so that, after he passed the phone to Zechs, he refused to eat the dinner I had prepared.

Neither of us were talkative men. We didn't take comfort in sharing our problems with just anyone, although I did with Duo and I'm sure Barton did to some extent with his lover. We had to fight our tendency to swallow our problems and grind away on them internally. We both had had to learn the skills from a professional in order to handle personal issues, which I was afraid this had turned into.

"Zechs is talking to Winner or Duo. I know about that, but you spoke to them first. Did something happen?"

"They are fine, Yuy. Zechs is giving them their orders."

"Who called, Barton?"

"Quatre."

Okay, I wanted to be assured I hadn't missed a call from Duo; still, Barton was visibly upset. I noticed an edge to his voice. He always said Quatre' name in the French style, as did Winner, "Cah-truh," soft and round. Duo usually called his friend "Cat" or even the terrible construction "Catter." This time his lover's name rolled off his tongue in an angry spat.

"There is something wrong. I need to know."

"No, you don't."

I wished his eyes were hidden by his former hair style, because the soulful gaze I got froze my blood. "Tell me."

Barton declared that he was not shocked, but disappointed in his lover's infidelity. I could not believe what I heard. Sure, I knew Duo and Winner were close friends. But they had sex together! Barton was cut deeply, not that he would complain. The man thought he hardly rated in Winner's book as it was, and now he'd just had it confirmed. I could kill Winner for undermining the man's confidence, not that I needed much reason. Killing was my first option when I was searching for a solution to a problem. Obviously, I usually found others. I was no longer a killing machine, but not so long ago I was just that.

At some point during the war, I noticed the growing friendship between Winner and Duo, "Maxwell" to me back then.. When it bothered me that Duo was closer to Winner than to me, I admitted my interest in Duo to myself. I envied them at first, but as my feelings toward Duo grew, I became jealous. When one day I overheard Quatre in a phone conversation with one of his many sisters confess his crush on his best friend, I knew I had to act or get out of the game.

The war delayed my actions, scattering us all apart again. I had a job acting as Relena Peacecraft's bodyguard, but agreed to join the Preventers when I'd heard Duo had quit the junkyard and joined up. I did it solely to see Duo again. Unfortunately, Duo's junkyard partner, Hilde, and Winner both had joined Preventers as well. To top if off, Duo wasn't around much, always on solo missions of great danger. I wanted to partner with him, but Une paired me with Barton. It was either that or Winner, and I didn't want that close a proximity to the boy who could feel my emotions and was, to my view, my greatest competition. Unless it was Hilde, which would have put an end to all my expectations.

I saw a psychologist and entered into regular therapy. I normalized once I discovered that silence was cheap, but talk was golden. I communicated with my partner at work, Barton, and convinced him to join me in counseling. We discovered we shared an important feature—we both were attracted to boys. I learned from Barton that he was enamored of Winner and thought Duo was very hot. Neither of them, he told me, seemed particularly attracted to girls, or boys either.

I suggested he make his feelings toward Winner more obvious, making it clear that I wished to pursue Duo. He understood, and I noticed him spending more time hovering near Winner and Chang's office. Within the week, Winner asked him out! I was impressed with Winner's bold action, since he never openly dated anyone.

My move was delayed for several months, while Duo left on an undercover assignment. Barton and I discussed a mutually beneficial solution and the next day proposed to Winner that he arrange an ex-Gundam pilot vacation as soon as Duo returned from action.

That was the beginning of a new tradition. Commander Une's cooperation was critical. We needed time off, ostensibly as mental health days for us and Duo, and she agreed. Every time one of Duo's solo infiltration assignments was completed, Commander Une would notify me. Chang had Agent Po alert him immediately of Duo's condition when he arrived at the infirmary. Duo would always be injured and he would show up there before the dormitory. The rest of us would arrange coinciding vacations and invite Duo to join us. He always turned up, even if one of us had to pack his bags and stuff him and his things into the car.

I needed Duo, but it seemed to me that he needed down time, not me, in his life. Barton disagreed and convinced me to pursue him more directly. Winner wasn't Duo's love interest, Barton said, but to convince me, he arranged Chang to take Duo on a long hike, while he made me sit and talk to Winner and him about my feelings. I revealed to Winner that I was gay and that I was attracted to Duo. I watched Winner's face carefully as they both listened.

"Oh, Heero, that's wonderful!" he told me. "He really needs someone, but he's very good at hiding how he feels. Be his friend. Talk to him."

"What about you? You're his friend."

"Yes, we are close, but it's never been anything but just good friends."

Knowing that their relationship was purely platonic was what I wanted most to hear. I think my relief was so strong Winner sensed it. His eyes grew wide and he stared at us both, although he lingered longest and last on Barton's face. Barton must have emoted his pleasure at the news, too; at least, in some way only Winner could read.

Duo had been growing more detached, becoming increasingly affected by his covert missions and taking longer to come out of whatever role he'd been playing on the job at the start of each vacation. We were all worried; me most of all. We had survived the war, I was falling for Duo, and he was killing himself. I think I got through to him on the last summer vacation that I was not hell bent on killing everyone again and that I could be one of the gang. But the time was short. His next job took him away for six months.

I couldn't wait for him to stabilize and have no time left in the vacation to seduce him. I had decided to make the snow retreat my official coming out to Duo party. Barton backed me up. So as not to muddy up my plans, he intended to inform Winner before the trip about how he felt, that he wanted Winner as his one and only love interest and that he wanted to "take their relationship to the next step."

I didn't know there were steps, and I didn't ask which one he was on. I, obviously, was at step one. To get to step "sex with Duo" meant taking a leap of faith, and I was ready to jump. Well, that turned out to be the best decision in my life. Duo became my world, my lover, and promised to become my husband since then. This was fortunate since I had no mind to ever share Duo with any other person. Barton could and would, but he didn't have any hope in securing Winner's affections "for all time." Barton was willing to accept Winner on any terms, while I had to have Duo lock, stock, and barrel.

I was Duo's first lover-then- and now I was just one of many. Zechs I was sure he'd slept with. He had been with Gunter. I'd had to watch them exchange blowjobs and I didn't know what else had gone on other times. Now, even Winner had had sex with my Duo the first opportunity they had to be alone.

I was hurt. Barton was also. I knew he felt even less secure in his own relationship than I did in mine. Winner was God damned lucky Barton was attached to him or I might have killed him. I hated that crazy streak inside me. I never wanted Duo to know how close I came to falling to my baser instincts. No man should have that power or knowledge of another.

"Too good to be true. I'm just waiting for Quatre to wake up some morning and wonder what he ever saw in me," Barton said.

I could have told him, and did a few times, but some things a man just has to feel himself, and I had felt those things. "I have felt nothing but security with Duo—until now. Now my trust is shattered."

"Maxwell's hot, Yuy. If he came on to me, as _Scythe _mind you, and I was drunk, I'm not sure I'd turn him down either. Listen; think of that guy as _Scythe_. _Duo_ wouldn't sleep around. _Scythe_ would."

I kept that in mind, but it was difficult not tearing into the two men the moment I saw them in the shuttle loading bay. But when I found I was working alongside Shinigami again, I couldn't help but want to forgive him. We would have to talk, later.

(o)

I shook my head, water droplets flying into the annoyed faces of the other swimmers bouncing in the pool beside me. I glared back then ignored them. I was profoundly disturbed to discover the degree to which I had become more and more distracted. The mission had become secondary in my thoughts and priorities. Since Duo had entered my life, everything had dropped in importance to make room at the top for him, which was why his infidelity hurt me so deeply. Clearly, I was secondary to the UC mission in his mind.

That was how it should be, I told myself, but it didn't have to be. Not for us any more. The mission parameters evaporated in the heat of the sun. I would get Duo to myself. Now.

Now, yeah. I wished we had had that so-easy-to-put-off talk about what had occurred in New Italy, because seeing Winner floating a hand's width away from Duo made my blood boil. Here was where those hours of counseling came into play. I did not twist Winner's dyed head and break his neck, nor did I crush his scull in a blow. I dove under water, swam between legs, covering the short distance to my prey in seconds, and surfaced beneath his tube, pushing off with my feet while simultaneously shoving up against the tube. I found satisfaction in seeing Winner's flailing, sunburned body break the cool, hard surface of the water several feet away. His cry and screech "did me good," as Duo would say.

Barton spotted me, but no one else did. When his eyes slid to Duo, I knew he was going to do the same thing to him. It was fair, so I made no move to stop him. I caught an instant of surprise on Duo's face as he registered he was next, and then a look of terror. Up and over he flew. I heard the splash and saw his loose tube twirling by a group of boys.

"Find him!!"

I swirled around, Winner's scream ringing in my ears. Exclamation points flew off him like drops of water off a shaking dog.

"Duo!!! He can't swim!!" Winner screamed. He held a hand over one eye, which was odd. Maybe he was hurt.

Barton's smile vanished, his face paled.

"_Scythe_!" Barton corrected in a hiss, and then he dove under the water. I followed, cursing Winner for blowing the code names and cursing Duo for not telling me that very important piece of personal information.

Another pool occupant rescued Duo, when he landed on his back and nearly strangled him in an effort to keep his head above water. I fought my way past other swimmers, triangulating a path to the side of the pool to join Duo and his savior. I observed the most impressive young man I'd ever laid eyes on as he carried my lover to the side of the pool, rolled him onto the decking, and climbed out beside him.

So far, I had seen an assortment of young, fresh faces atop strikingly toned bodies, but this one guy, in particular, took my breath away. His body was unbelievable. Full, round, cut shoulders topped a body that tapered to a wasp-like waist. He was wearing a form-fitting deep blue shiny Speedo which hugged each muscular bulge and crevice with adoring intimacy. His upper body wasn't triangular so much as it was tetrahedral. His pecs were thick, solid slabs which extended down to the six-pack below them.

His face was as stunning as his musculature. Short, ginger hair on top was ringed by a buzz cut in the military style. While his features were classic boy-next-door, he hadn't shaved that day, and the slight stubble gave him a rough edge that made my mouth water.

I forgave the round-eyed, blank look on Duo's face. I probably looked just as stupid. A wave of chlorinated water washed over me. I shook my head, chasing away the worst of it.

"D-d_… Scythe_?" I croaked, correcting his name at the last moment. "You okay?"

"Y-yeah. I think I'll sit out the water fight, though."

I turned my head in time to get another face full of water. I spit it out, catching my breath.

"Go ahead, _Wing._ Work off some of that anger," he said.

Duo was joking, I think, but it sounded like a great idea to me. Put a lot of rowdy, healthy teenage guys in a pool, start a ruckus, and you have chaos. I would go as far as saying that the most celebratory, stress relieving activity I had encountered in months occurred when I joined a sybaritic gang of boys in a masterful pool brawl. Refreshing.

After that, the four of us had a talk; Chang acted as mediator and Zechs stayed the hell out of the way. _I_ hadn't known Duo couldn't swim. No standing water on L2, Duo said. Learning to swim had been part of _my_ training, I said defensively.

Wufei was so fast a swimmer that he could have competed in the L5 competitions, had he not become a Gundam pilot. I doubted his exaggerated assessment of his abilities, but said nothing.

Trowa swam in lakes. Sink or swim, yuh know? Yes.

Quatre had formal lessons from the age of five, which included diving from a 50 ft platform into an Olympic-sized pool, and lost a green-tinted contact today in the pool – thanks to me—and would have to go blue-eyed. I was non-apologetic.

Duo was embarrassed, and, frankly, I didn't care. He should have told me, ME, that he couldn't swim. Why was it that Winner knew and not me, I asked? This returned us to the Winner family estate, its Olympic-sized pool, and Duo's stays there, which I dismissed, not wanting to hear about any glorious Duo and Winner moments.

"So, Yuy, why did you pick on Winner and start it all?" Chang asked.

Direct and to the point. Thanks, Chang. I aimed a glare toward the guilty party, and he dipped his head. Oh, he knew all right. What I wanted to know was what Duo's feelings were for Quatre, but couldn't ask, so Barton did for me.

It was a kindness I valued. Barton wasn't confident in his relationship, but he was tired of the tension. Even though his boyfriend would be easier to pacify after this discussion than Duo would be for me, I guessed, I knew that it was very difficult for Barton to cause an outright confrontation. He preferred to keep his private matters private. Then again, it could be that Barton was a braver man than I, knowing that the air had to be cleared for the mission to continue. He was not so stupid as to blindly step into the fire, but he could jump through the Rings of Fire, couldn't he?

"So sex between friends is okay these days?" Barton asked, a wry twist entering his tone. "I get confused about what's acceptable, new-age ethos."

It was Chang who reacted badly. "What! What are you suggesting?"

"Chill, 'Fei." Duo rose to the occasion. "In his roundabout way, Tro' is alluding to something that happened in Italy, which the ticking bomb over there," he said, pointing a thumb at me, "took out on Quat."

Chang looked baffled. Winner's eyes were large and sorrowful. Barton's expression was indecipherable.

"I had reasons," I said.

"Yeah, okay. I'll tell the story to get this over with." Duo scratched his head and drew his breath, while collecting his thoughts. "Quatre and I got smashed after a nasty day with the art goons and got each other off to relieve stress. Friends can do that under duress, adult friends. Never happened before and I doubt it will ever happen again. End of discussion."

"Quatre doesn't drink, ordinarily," Barton began.

"Well—"

"Got…off…?" Chang sputtered.

A thunderous pounding on a door a room away interrupted the conversation. We held this meeting our suite sitting room, the only place with any amount of privacy without a bed, but there was no door to the outside. Chang flew out of his chair looking happy to be doing anything besides listening to us.

"I'll see who that is," he said.

"How is he?" roared a large, Middle Eastern man, who towered over Chang's slender form. His thick, black eyebrows looked like dancing caterpillars above a face covered with a matching thick, black beard.

"This visit is not necessary," Chang said, while attempting to check the bigger man's progress into the room.

"Rashid!" Winner cried out. "It's okay everybody. This is Rashid, the leader of the Maguanacs Corps. I'm fine, really. I just got wet and it was all fun in the sun. Now, for introductions, you already know Duo and Trowa. That's our friend Wufei Chang at the door and this is Heero Yuy. Um, but you must call us by our code names: _Scythe, Tamer, Shen, Wing_, and Mr. Peacecraft is _Wind._"

"You are sunburned, Mr. _Sand_," Rashid said disapprovingly.

"I have lotions…" Winner began.

I interrupted. "Are there more of your corps here, then?"

"Yes, Mr. _Wing_, about twelve in this building alone. We have removed many of the staff and substituted our most esteemed selves." His smile showed lots of teeth. "Others are on standby for when we leave."

"The other employees are bound to notice," Chang said.

"Of course, but a little money, it fades the memory," Rashid replied then chuckled, deep, low, and rumbling like a storm beyond the horizon.

"I will sleep much better tonight knowing you are here," Winner told him.

I agreed. The Maguanacs Corps was devoted to Winner and, thankfully, to his friends. If anyone could be trusted to assist and extract us from his complex of buildings, it would be them. I wasn't about to trust Edwards back at headquarters. He probably wanted Chang dead by now, after having to fulfill his debts to Dorothy Catalonia.

We discussed our situation. Rashid knew which rooms were ours. The room we currently were in opened into our sleeping quarters to one side and Zechs' private sitting room on the other. The sitting room led into a grand bedroom exclusively for Zechs. Ours was large with individual beds set into semi-private alcoves. I hated the arrangement. We were hemmed in with no exits, not even windows. Only Zechs had direct access to the out-of-doors through his sitting room. It reinforced the master-servant arrangement far too well.

"The door from the master sitting room is steel, reinforced with Gundanium. No one can enter without a key. I had Habib replace the door locks earlier. The only ones with a key are you, and myself."

Rashid handed us each our key to our tiny kingdom, lorded over by Prince Zechs. Winner received two keys. "This is for Master _Wind_, when he returns." He stood with his feet apart, arms akimbo, and recited, "We will be here and we will be there. Always watching, always near—"

"So, we should never, never fear?" Duo added with a nervous chuckle. "Or is it 'we even watch your pretty rear'?"

"Ah, ha, ha!" Rashid laughed. He wiped an eye and grinned, his gold eye-tooth glittering under the lamplights. "The Maguanacs theme ends with 'Our vigilance has no peer.' Ha, ha! But I shall take your suggestions under advisement, Mr. _Scythe_."

He was gone before Zechs returned. We took turns showering, Winner being last. He left Zechs' shower room just as the man walked in. After an awkward moment, where the two danced around one another, Zechs told him to dress up. The two of them were going to dinner together. The rest of us were eating in.

"Why?" Duo demanded to know.

"Because _Sand_ has poise, excellent manners, and intelligent table conversation I can count on to be appropriate and diplomatic. It is not something I can teach."

"Oh, gods…" Duo groaned. "Don't give me that 'gotta be bred into the boy' garbage."

"All right, I won't. I meant that I haven't the time or the patience to instruct any of you. Go on, please, _Sand_. We have twenty minutes until seating."

"Okay," Winner said obediently. He was a good soul, I had to admit.

Duo was pissed, though. He hated being left out, particularly if he perceived that it might be due to his deprived background. He had a real inferiority complex that way. I could feel the resentment radiating off him. So could Chang, who stepped in before Duo exploded.

"He is not inviting me either, and I was raised a scholar in an honored clan," Chang said matter-of-factly. "I accept that our friend is a better choice for a partner at what I assume will be a tense, stuffy, and dull dinner party."

"Yeah, guess you're right there. I don't do too well in a repressive atmosphere. Real appetite killer."

I made a mental note to myself to thank Chang later for diffusing my volatile boyfriend. Now I owed both Barton and Chang. I wondered what I could do to repay my friends. The note was a short one, because Zechs dashed back into the room, buttoning up a fresh shirt, jarring my thoughts.

"Nine o'clock we will be back here. Everyone is to be present for cataloging. Yes, like shoes or hats, only this is tagging and grouping you. You are presented and have your photos shot for inclusion in a brochure to the buyers. Those that miss this are out of the running. Period. Some of these boys have been here all week; Gunter got us in past the preliminaries just on his word alone of how good you all are."

"Aren't _we_ lucky," Trowa muttered.

"How do we dress?" I asked.

"Sexy, in suits; your best, I'd say."

"So, do we have an itinerary for what's up tomorrow?" Duo asked.

"We get it tonight, but from what I've heard, there is a swimsuit competition—"

Barton snorted. Wufei opened his mouth to protest, recognized it for a joke, and let out a long sigh. Duo and I shared smiles.

"Also, a firearms exhibition of some kind. I assume that is where you demonstrate your knowledge of weapons as well as your fighting skills. I expect _Wing _and_ Shen_ to make up for any wrongly-assumed deficits in their Asian heritage by stellar performances in those areas. These buyers are very, very much biased toward the fair-haired, fair-skinned male."

Chang looked smugly confident and I hid my emotions. The gorgeous Atlas in the pool would be a hard act to beat if he could fire a gun as good as he looked. Zechs didn't look overly confident either. He appeared drawn and harried.

"Later, the buyers get a chance to check out the merchandise up close, but I don't know when or how that is accomplished so don't ask. Now, if you will excuse me, I have to finish getting dressed."

A few minutes later, Zechs and Winner were ready for their dinner date.

"Do I look okay?" Winner asked his lover. He seemed nervous in his attempt to reestablish his close relationship with Barton, who was still quietly chafing over Winner's dalliance with Duo. "Without the green contacts, am I recognizable?"

"I'd know you anywhere. I know every mark, mole, and hair on your body." He lightly ran his hand through the red hair, pushing it aside and revealing an ear. He leaned in and whispered something secret, making Winner smile and causing the blood to rise past his collar all the way to his scalp.

I turned away from the intimate scene. Duo caught me watching them and smiled faintly. Zechs entered the room, and I cleared my throat to get both men's attention.

I reminded him to activate the monitoring devices they were wearing. "Remember to trigger the recording device before you enter the room. We can monitor the feed in here."

"Preventers home office is recording all the transmissions?" Zechs asked.

"Yes, they have the data storage facilities for satellite transmissions from all over the world and the colonies." I continued, "We can monitor the transmissions as they happen from the laptop, but are unable to store any of it. It's too dense a format, so we can't review past transmissions."

"Okay, good, _Wing._ _Sand_, you're ready? Okay, remember, boys, nine o'clock we'll stop back to collect you; be ready to go."

"What about _our _dinner?" Duo asked.

"Being delivered any time now," Zechs said. He placed his palm on the small of Winner's back and gently steered him out the door. The door closed behind them with a loud click.

The room-delivery food was delicious; the dinner party was the same food but with the unwelcome addition of a stomach-clenching undercurrent of malice, deceit, and innuendo. I was glad to have missed it. It was bad enough to watch the feeds.

Over lamb kabobs and rice pilaf, I listened to the voice-over of a loud man, a master seller, seated to Winner's far side. His voice had been sounding all the along, jabbering on about the price of housing and feeding his stable of boys. From the camera hidden in Zechs' collar, I watched Winner fight a yawn, while simultaneously from Winner's camera, Zechs was wearing the vacant expression of the stupid, the insane, or the man whose thoughts are miles away. He wasn't really listening either.

At half-past eight, we cleaned up and dressed for success: ties lose, buttons left unbuttoned suggestively, pushed up sleeves, mussy hair. It was a lot more work to look carelessly put together, than to appear perfectly well-groomed. Wufei had fewer problems fitting in than I would have guessed. When I complemented him, he told me he knew about the dating scene, and that women liked sexy-looking men just as much as-- he stumbled over just what to call the rest of us, sticking to "gay men" and playing it safe. Obviously, that was the way it was supposed to work. Men attracted women, married, reproduced. I'd been so out of the norm that I forgot the current situation wasn't. No wonder Duo lost himself in UC work.

We dutifully followed after Zechs when he and Winner returned to collect us. The mood was subdued, even Duo, understanding how important being admired and desired was, walked out the door solemn-faced. To discover the identities of the men at the top of the organization, we had to attract them and get them to place offers for our purchase.

We were not alone. Other prospects were filing into the hallways leading to the grand hall. Most appeared nervous, unsure of their future, some showed white-faced, fear, and a few strutted with self-assurance, false or not. Barton's face reflected no emotion, but he squeezed Winner's shoulder as we rounded a corner. Winner looked pale but calm. Chang's brows were drawn in a scowl that matched mine, I'm sure. Zechs nodded grimly to other suppliers with which he had become familiar. Duo alone suddenly appeared animated by good cheer. He wore his game face, grinning and chattering to me or anyone he passed as if he hadn't a care in the world. I returned a smile and the warmth in his eyes fired my soul. We could do this.

End, It's Back to Work, Chapter Nineteen


	27. It’s Back to Work Chapter 20

**DEFYING GRAVITY**

Part Two: It's Back to Work

**Chapter Twenty**

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Gundam Wing or its characters, nor do I make any monetary profit off this story.  
Warnings: 1x2x1, 3x4x3, AU, yaoi, some language, non-consensual sexual situations  
--Kaeru Shisho 6/17/2007 Duo's POV

* * *

Okay, so this was it. The conference we'd been waiting for, preparing for, for months was under way at last and we were there. Mill was posing as a seller of "prime cuts", superior boys ready for induction into a private army. Who were the buyers? Who concocted the conference, or more accurately, the meat market? Who were the sellers that fed the hungry monster? Those were a few of the questions our team was there to expose. 

My code name was _Scythe_. My owner was _Wind_. My fellow pieces of boy-merchandise were: _Wing, Sand, Tamer_, and_ Shen_. We all looked hot, lightly built, but well-toned and capable of doing more than turning heads. Mill, aka _Wind_, looked us over one last time before we left the confines of our room for the photo shoot.

"You all pass. _Tamer_, smile."

"Yeah," I cut in, "Smile, it makes people wonder what you are thinking."

"Or _if_ you're thinking," Trowa, snapped back. Then he smiled.

Ignoring my witticisms, _Wind_ continued to share his opinions, blowing up a storm, which is how he got his code name back in his OZ days, I'll bet. "_Sand_, relax_. Wing _and _Shen_, work those scowls into something more 'come hither', will you? I know you can do it."

"Remember, if you get those old men by the balls, their hearts and minds will follow," I said, followed by an air kiss.

_Shen_ smiled. _Wing_ chuckled.

It wasn't wholly a joke, just my way of thinking. It was true. Anyway, we stood out as colony-born, because of our longer hair, which was preferred by some buyers, like our sponsor, Alric Gunter. 'Fei gave his loose hair a toss and Heero unbuttoned one more closure on his shirt.

I pulled Heero closer so I could whisper in his ear. "When you smile, it shows in your eyes. Duck your chin, look up through your bangs, tilt your head like we practiced, and no one will suspect you're that famous terrorist."

He nodded and glared, just to get my goat then we both laughed. I opened my mouth to say one more thing, but Mill, _Wind_, stopped me with an upraised hand.

"Would you mind? I'd like to finish this," he said.

"I don't mind that you are talking, Master _Wind_, so long as you don't mind that I'm not listening."

Quatre, aka _Sand_, laughed, finally relaxed. My job here was done.

I've discovered that the world is full of gorgeous men, who despite their good looks and perfect bodies are about as appealing as a two-day, dead carp. I've always found that there are pretty guys and there are sexy guys, and the two aren't necessarily the same. Pretty is a combination of hard work and God-given features. Sexy is an attitude. Sexy is the way a guy holds himself, and interacts with others. Sexy is in the eyes and the posture.

Heero,_ Wing_, was to me so damned sexy and enticing. He exuded an animalistic charisma that I had sensed the moment I set eyes on him when we were fifteen year olds, and found enthralling as my hormonal urges woke up. Later, when my barriers were torn down and I could see myself as a gay man, he developed into a completely irresistible man. Smoking hot.

Mill, well, _Wind_, was tantalizing, but straight at his core. He could bend under pressure, but after the challenge was over, he was remorseful. There were times when I couldn't resist contact with him, but with Heero close at hand, those times had diminished to zilch.

Clearing his throat, Wufei, _Shen,_ indicated that I should pay attention and move up in line. He was so cool and collected looking. I knew a snarling dragon was just under the surface, but at the moment he was hiding it well. It was a good thing he was straight, because I was finding myself way too interested in his body. He was darker skinned and slimmer than Heero, and with that long, silky, black hair...gods... I was a mess of wildly discharging hormones.

"Scythe? Keep moving." Quatre's soft voice woke me out of my lustful imaginings.

Quatre, aka _Sand_, was such a good heart. He looked supremely beautiful and effeminate at the moment. He didn't usually. I loved the guy- like a brother. Sex did not belong in our equation. He knew that. I knew that, but, man, he was one sweet lay. He taught me something about blowjobs and pressure points, which I wanted to use on my guy, sometime. Sometime when he wouldn't associate it with Quatre or Gunter.

My guy. Yeah, all roads led back to Heero. I skipped to his side and whispered into his ear.

Heero was often a difficult man to read, and he knew it, too. His often single-minded dedication to a task led him to exert monumental control over his features and to lock down his emotions. I think that in direct response his reactions were sometimes explosive and unexpected. Like, as we were marching along to this photo shoot, he broke his stoic mold and laughed so loud Trowa skipped alongside me to see what was wrong.

"I just told him to 'never sleep with anyone crazier than yourself,' and he cracked up," I told him.

Trowa, _Tamer_, burst into a wild laugh. There's another odd, but sexy, duck. Really sexy when his eyes shimmered and his cheeks heated up. Sex could do that, but so could a good laugh. Not my type, though. See, love is a matter of chemistry, but sex is a matter of physics. I'm into applied science, which is interesting because our mission at this point definitely took on an experimental angle.

There was this guy, an Adonis in the pool who carried me to safety as if I were a feather-weight. Heero had noticed him, too, and that rocked my world, so I sent him away to cool off. Adonis disappeared in a current of white water. I knew I'd see him again, since I figured the preponderance of pretty boys in the pool were others like us about to go the sale block.

When Adonis caught my eye the next time, he was talking with a friend of his, one of his mates, presumably. _Wind_ and his charges, including me, were standing in line waiting our turn to be photographed. Adonis was a few bodies down the line from us. His stance was relaxed and cocky. While he talked, he absentmindedly ran his hand up and down his stomach muscles lightly stroking the contours, unconsciously enjoying the feel of the satiny shirt material stretched over his iron frame. His friend was leaning with his back against a mirror, and he was standing closer than most men would allow, brazenly invading his friend's personal space. His deep brown eyes sparkled as he laughed; his smile was a little asymmetric, and reeked of self-confidence.

_Wind_, his platinum hair long and loose, catching attention from all the younger men, stood next to me and Heero, _Wing_, darker, glowering, with his hand on my waist tensely in position behind me. I noticed they were watching Adonis, too.

"I think we've got one here, _Wind_," I said.

"Pardon? 'One' what?" Mill asked, definitely puzzled.

The seeming _non sequitur_ must have thrown him for a loop. I forgot that I sometimes left out parts of my logic making it difficult to follow the path of my thoughts.

"An alpha-male." Heero's words hung in the air between us. He knew what I meant; he could follow me anywhere.

"Ah," Mill sighed in understanding. "Yes, a few years back, after reading some papers on the structures of the societies of animals who travel in packs, I began to wonder if there were analogies to humans. Careful study and research led me to the conclusion that there should be individuals, rare though they might be, who were able, somehow, to totally control the society of individuals around them—the human incarnation of the alpha-male. I was sure they existed; I encountered several males with many of the right qualities, and, now, not only do I think they exist, but one exists in this very room."

"He will bias the judges, er, buyers," I said.

"Possibly," was all Mill would add in the public forum.

Boys we'd befriended in the pool called out greetings as they joined the lineup. Some waived. The group limiting Adonis' movements, probably his mates, were all clean cut, chiseled, and with the easy going coolness that comes from having complete confidence with one's body. Together, they looked like the embodiment of the Nietzsche-esque philosophy of "might makes right" take on an _uber__alles_-4Hclub.

The Adonis alpha stared at me from the center. Alone of the group, he said nothing—just raised his head a fraction of an inch in a nod of condescending acknowledgement. Having glanced at him, I found myself, as at the pool, unable to look away. It was as if I was being somehow compelled to watch him.

The analytical side of my brain recoiled. What was it about him that was so binding? It certainly didn't look like he was doing anything unusual. And yet, he was somehow exercising power. While my analytical side wondered, the rest of my brain went entirely blank. I was captive to my eyes, which were captive to him, which would be really funny if it wasn't happening to me, but to someone like, say, 'Fei.

He had short-cropped, light brown hair like mine but without the gold highlights a little longer on top than on the sides and back, where he had had it razor cut. His eyebrows, perfectly spaced under a strong forehead, were designed to draw your attention into his thick-lashed dark brown eyes. His eyes were of infinite depth, and staring into them, I felt lost, selfless, and consumed. So trapped by the intensity I saw there, I hardly registered when his lips curled into a sinister, knowing, triumphant grin.

Through the iron grip on my waist, I could feel Heero shudder. He felt the pull of the Adonis, too. I reminded myself that this was not a good state to fall into. I would have to remain an indifferent, impartial observer. But this should not prove too difficult, I argued to myself, because I was no psychological lightweight.

Hey, I passed at the top of my class in that prestigious Gundam training program of one! I, more than most guys my age, understood the methods men used to emotionally control each other. I had never succumbed to an OZ interrogator. Understanding the process, my inner voice reasoned, gave me an unassailable advantage. He could not control me if I understood his tactics, and without his control, I could be free to do what I had come to do: observe, steal, report, and get the hell outta here. I determined, to begin with, not to look him in the eyes until I could figure out where he derived his power.

"Hi, haven't we met before?"

I retracted my eyes and turned to observe the sun-beam of light addressing me. I didn't know him. "Perhaps. I'm the receptionist at the VD Clinic."

The stranger's eyes widened and his smile faltered before the idiot caught on and chuckled. "Ho, ho! Good one. Naw, remember me from the pool? I'm Claus."

_No, I didn't, but hey, if I'm talking to you I'm not mesmerized by Adonis._

"Ah, hi. I'm _Scythe_. This is _Wing._"

_Who is looking you over with the intension of determining how important it is that you live._

"Hi, _Wing_. You were awesome in the water fight."

"Hn." _Of course he was._

"Those are awesome collars. You all match. A matched set, huh?"

"Yeah," I said, because Wing had gone mute.

Claus was a pretty good-looking young man. Farm-boy wholesomeness permeated his good-natured face. He parted his blond silky hair at the side, reminding me a great deal of Quatre, _Sand_, if his hair weren't dyed or five inches longer than usual. Like the rest of the boys near him, Claus' hair was cut relatively short. I wondered what it was about his group that made them all cut their hair short. He had a small nose lightly dusted with freckles across its bridge and full red lips. His smooth skin, unlike many blonds, had an even, golden tan despite the freckles, which served to create a wholly appealing, friendly, and open image. He wore a cobalt blue sports coat which set off his blue eyes perfectly. The collar of the white shirt underneath lay open, showing off the junction between his chorded neck and his cut upper chest.

"So," I said, holding up our side of the conversation. "You from New Germany?"

"Yeah, how'dya guess?" Claus asked honestly.

"Uh…lucky?" I grinned to pass off my acuity. I could place a face pretty good, but these guys were child's play. They were the quintessential New Germany hunks, as opposed to the NG street sluts.

"Sure are!" he laughed. "These are my Master's 'others,'" Claus said gesturing toward the short-haired guys filling my view. It was an interesting assortment of young men, and listening to Claus helped pass the time.

"That's our most gregarious one, Alard, who talks endlessly of snatch and things sexual, and over there is Etzel, who never passes up an opportunity to crack a joke. You remind me of a combination of both!"

"Oh?" I said. "Heh, heh…"

"The others are more reserved. Nikolaus, he's the one laughing."

Nikolaus was clearly engaged by the lively conversation between Alard and Etzel, while himself offering few words to it.

"Hans is so demure," Claus said. "And Gerd is such a pervert."

At that moment, I watched a rosy blush regularly breaking out on his fair skin in response to Gerd's continuous reference to genitalia, hand gestures included.

"That's, um, Dierk standing with Raban."

Dierk. Adonis had a name and it was Dierk. He stood detached, listening to the conversation without participating in it. Raban was on the other end of the visual spectrum, at stunningly handsome, but more lightly built. He leaned, back still to the mirror, equally disinterested in and non-contributive to the banter of their friends. While his attention was, ostensibly, on his hands, it was clear from his body language that he was focused on Dierk. He glanced at him often, and I found him trying to imperceptibly mimic Dierk's stance, gestures, and attitudes.

Each member of that "harem" was strikingly good looking in his own way. The majority of them were shades of blond, and I was quickly becoming lost in sea of handsome faces and Germanic names Claus was assigning them.

"Oops! Picture time," I said to him, as excused myself. "Later, Claus."

I tore myself away from the eye candy and smiled on cue, slinging my braid to the back, then back to the front when told to. It helped identify me, so I had to show it off. _Wing _didn't smile on the first try, but remembered his practice moves for the second take. We moved on to wait for the rest of our team, who performed as expected in front of a camera. _Sand_ beamed comfortably, _Shen_ appeared confident and composed, and _Tamer _smiled shyly. Next, _Wind_ and the other 'masters' were pealed off to someplace else. We 'boys' listened to instructions then we were paraded around, down a cat walk, asked to remove our coats, but no more, and then told to join the previous guy in a line up on stage. Mostly, we waited.

A half an hour or so later, we were told, "You will exit left and wait to be called."

More waiting.

Following the boy in front of me, I walked my weary way back down the hall to a large common room near the entrance to the building. There were a few tables, some couches, and a wall mounted TV. Most of the guys were in there, thirty in all. A poker game was in progress, with Gerd loudly announcing the face up cards he was dealing around the table. Nikolaus sat reading the paper, and Hans, Alard, and Etzel were watching a sitcom. It looked like what I imagined a generic frat common room would look like, but without the cigarette smoke, empty bottles, the mess, or the occasional ugly guy.

From the expression _Wing_ wore, I could tell that he disliked them all. They didn't seem dying of curiosity to know him either.

Occasionally, someone would be called back for a photo re-take. Two boys were called and never came back. I guessed they were rejected. My Adonis was there, naturally. There was something about him, something I still could not name or understand, that acted directly on one's animal brain.

Heero reminded me of a tightly wound cheetah tracking his prey. He was studying Dierk closely then his eyes were on me as he cozied up to me and pulled me into a relatively unoccupied corner. I was hoping for some loving, but he was all business.

"I have identified a series of behaviors that helped convey his power: his stance and hip rotation, the way he manipulates the tilt of his head, his ability to actively hold one's gaze without looking away. His pupils do not contract when he looks you in the eye – a completely normal and instinctive defense mechanism that everyone, except Dierk it seems, possesses."

"Yeah, but those were only symptoms of his ability, not the cause. They were the mechanisms, and only a few ones at that, with which he exercised his domination. Chemical. When he touched me the feeling was overwhelming."

"Chemical. Maybe it's drugs. We will have to search his room."

"We? You mean me. Oh, man—" I could feel a good whine coming on.

"_Sand_ can contact his Maguanacs for assistance. _Tamer, Shen_ and I will distract him."

"Him? Dierk?"

"Yes, Dierk."

_Shen_ appeared. "Shhh! I heard my name. Keep your voices down."

Wufei's hissed warning told us we weren't being as quiet as we should. Heero told him about our planned break in. 'Fei balked. I kept the locations of _Tamer,_ _Sand,_ Dierk, and Claus updated in my mind.

"Reduced to thievery? We should stand for values of justice that must remain, or all would sink into a purposeless hell," Wufei whispered.

You know, he really ticked me off sometimes with his hard-headed, arrogance. Heero fended me off and explained that I would be stealing illegal drugs, theoretically, in order to even out the odds.

"Okay." How could he and 'Ro distract the Adonis?

_"Tamer_'s clever," I mentioned._ Not my problem, though._ "When we're released from our cages here, I'll head out."

First, I found Quatre, _Sand_. He got the gist immediately, knowing his role was to intervene to get his corps to act on our behalf and to keep guard outside Dierk's room while I did my job. Next, I tapped Claus for the room number where he and his "mates" were staying in the ryad. He was excited that I might sneak over for a visit and gave me the number without a second thought. I connected once more, spreading the location to my comrades before an authoritative figure announced the weapon testing schedule and dismissed us.

Heero and Trowa had twenty minutes to spare until they had to change clothes and report to the weapon testing room—nothing like a little more time pressure on top of every other problem.

On the way out of the common room, Trowa started babbling about beautiful, exotic blossoms, grabbed a vase of flowers and spun suddenly, spilling the water and flowers over the kid behind him; who was, of course, Dierk. I couldn't recall ever seeing Trowa act so outrageously gay, so I knew he was acting. It was our cue to move. Trowa gushed with an effusive apology, while Heero and Wufei joined Quatre and me in a mad dash down the hall. More mad than dash. The crush of the other boys slowed us down. Heero and Wufei formed a wedge and squeezed me through.

"We'll hold off the roommates," Heero said.

"You do that," I grumbled to myself.

Quatre slipped past as well and turned down a side hall after spotting Habib, or Halim, or possibly Amid. I never was properly introduced to them all. Their help would be critical to get whatever I confiscated out of the building to be tested. We would need the results tonight!

I felt a powerful wind blow me to the side. While still awhirl in the resulting eddies, I observed Dierk enter then slam the door to his room.

"Damn."

I pressed my ear to the door to Dierk's room. Silence. Slowly, I cracked open the door. Empty. I slipped noiselessly into the room and crept over to the closed door on the far end. Water pounding. Dierk was taking a shower. I'd have a few minutes.

"Shit."

The room was a mess. Clothes on the floor. Leftover trays of food, books, dirty towels, mess everywhere. Strangely, I felt the need to clean up as I searched. Tossing clothes and towels in an empty hamper was a start. Certain items made my skin crawl. They all came from one part of the room, near one bed, Dierk's, I reasoned. I piled dishes on trays and stacked them outside the door. Quatre had just arrived at the door.

"I'll knock if anyone comes. Just hurry. Here's a bag. Fill it. I'll get it out," Quatre said in a hushed tone.

I didn't bother telling him about Dierk. No time. Back to searching and sorting. As I straightened the bookshelf, I caught a glimmer of light in the mirror. Bottles stashed beneath a bed were reflected in the mirror behind me. A break!

"Yes!"

I scooted under and grabbed everything I could, cramming the bottles and boxes into the bag Quatre had supplied. I heard the shower shut off. I skittered crab-like to the door and passed Quatre the bag.

I was about to make a run for it, when I turned and gave the room one last once-over, and saw my name badge stuck to the floor at the base of the bed.

"Damn," I growled, while shutting the door behind me. "Go on. I'll be just a moment."

Good, dependable Quat disappeared with the treasure. I stepped back, opened the door, and froze. Dierk, wrapped in a skimpy towel, looked up from a magazine. Staring at me from his bed, only his eyes moved. His lips tightened imperceptibly and curled slightly inwards. I was the proverbial "deer caught in the headlights." Blinded, I was unable to move. Time ended, and the universe ceased to exist. There were just his eyes.

I have no idea how long I stood there in the doorway, frozen in my glimpse into his room. I only know that he must have told me to come in, since—despite being trapped in a mental place without language, without thought, and without will power—my body turned and my legs propelled me forward. The movement helped break the spell somewhat. I found my voice.

"The help around here is for shit. Thought you could use a little TLC, you know, as a way of saying 'thanks' for the save in the pool. Anything else you need, tonight?" I asked, adding a grin.

Else. I had said, "else." He must have noticed that I'd cleaned the room. He must have. He was holding my name badge.

"Yeah," he said, casually flicking the magazine and my badge aside onto the floor I had just cleared. "Rub my shoulders."

_I can not walk to his bed! I must not!_

I was defenseless before him already, and had become completely compromised. If I was to be able to retain even a shred of objectivity, if I was to salvage anything of the mission, I had to find a way to stay strong.

As a Gundam pilot, I was trained to endure pain, to work beyond what is physically possible, trained to ignore the messages and imperatives my body gave me. Most of the boys here were our age and had been trained to kiss the asses of arrogant, self-absorbed "masters." I was hoping Dierk was expecting me to have those credentials. Still, my body was not responding to my superego. I needed a way out, and my only hope was to use the part of me I had been exercising since birth: my intellect.

Keeping my eyes on the basket of dirty clothes, not him, I found an empty chair, rolled it into the center of the room, and waited for him to come sit down. His mouth formed itself into an asymmetric, tight-lipped grin as he swung his legs over the bed, rose, sauntered the few steps to the chair, and sat before me. It was so small, this victory of mine, but it felt, at the time, so complete. I had made him move. _I_ had made _him_ come to me. I had avoided his bed, and with it, avoided losing the last of my restraint, of keeping at least some shred of dignity.

And yet I had seen the grin.

I had seen, through the corner of my eye, the comprehension in his face, the complete understanding of the situation, of my move, and the decision of how to react to the challenge. I had seen the total confidence that he would win. How could this kid understand all of that? How could he know?

He sat before me, bare-to to the waist. I looked down on his cropped hair, his chorded neck, the etched definition of his muscles. I shut my eyes, determined to keep my head clear, determined to return to the realm of the analytical where I was safe, determined not to feel but, instead, to understand. I had studied the "perfect soldier" often enough. I could be the "perfect soldier," if only for a few minutes.

I brought my hands to his shoulders. They were warm. No, they were hot. No. They _emitted_ heat. His metabolism must have run very high, I thought, and of course, that made sense with drugs coursing through his system. His deltoids, even relaxed, were unexpectedly firm. Massaging them was like kneading a 15 pound block of plasticine, which I have done in the past making bombs. His skin made my fingers tingle again, in the same way his clothes had, but more intensely.

With crushing clarity, I registered the next symptom, the next in his litany of mechanisms of control, the chemical component, just as Heero had surmised. Something was being excreted now from his skin, in his sweat, into his clothes, and onto my hands. And with that realization, despite myself, despite everything I knew and understood and had studied, despite my hopes and expectations for the mission, I knew I was lost.

To be safe, I should not look at him, should not smell him, and should absolutely not touch him. In short, the only way to be safe from him was to be away from him.

Fuck.

I fought the invisible power drawing me to him. I fought as I felt my hands change from kneading him to _needing_ him. I fought as they began to caress, to explore. I fought as they swept over his shoulders, down the front of him. I fought as my fingertips found the hairs that ringed his aureoles. I fought as they sought out his nipples, feeling their texture, their electric charge. I fought as my nose, now near the back of his neck, breathed in the crudeness of him. I fought, knowing the fight was in vain.

He took my left elbow in his right hand, and brought me around to the front of him. All he needed was the slightest downward pressure—a mere suggestion of a gesture—to bring me to my knees before him. His smell roiled in my blood, his skin burned my hands, and his eyes—his eyes. He looked down at me, and I became, again, lost. Here was his punishment for the affront of making him move. Here was his revenge for my attempt, feeble as it was, at independence.

He let go of my elbow, and spread his knees lazily before me. He hooked his thumb in the waistband of his sweats, and pulled them down, hefting out his cock and balls. But I did not see them, trapped as I was, in his eyes—his eyes.

"You want these."

It was a statement, not a question. Still, it required a response. My mouth had gone Saharan dry, like the grand desert right outside our door, and, knowing I should not, could not, must not, I felt my head half nod.

My reward was his grin. His victory. The self-satisfaction. But it was not enough for him.

"Tell me," he commanded, _sotto voce_.

I tried as hard as I tried not to. No sound came. It was not because I thought better of it. I could not think, because I had not had the presence of mind to breathe.

He took my hand, and brought it up under his crotch. His dick, full and long though still soft, singed my palm. He curled my fingers around it. I knelt there with my own agonizingly hard and aching cock and stared into the eyes that were staring into my soul. My hand felt the weight, the substance, the sovereignty of his manhood. Soft, it was almost as large as mine was fully erect.

"Tell me," he said again, bringing his hand up under my chin.

His semi-extended finger made contact with the skin there. By applying the slightest pressure, he raised my head a fraction, increasing the directness and effectiveness of his gaze. His touch, so gentle but at the same time compelling. It was also reward. It was a caress. He had touched me and the touch was electrifying. My ego crumbled.

There were words uttered in an arid, breathless, hardly audible voice. I recognized the voice as mine, but not the words I was hearing.

"I want it," that voice said.

"You want what?"

"I want you. I want to suck you. I need it," I forced out, and seeing that he was still not satisfied with the answer, I heard the voice plead hoarsely, "please—"

I had no will. I had no power. In the presence of this man, this animal, I had no self. Captive in the prison that were his eyes, he held me immobile, incapable of any thought that was not a consuming, devastating hunger to submit to him, to serve him, to be possessed by him.

And he saw that. He saw my will disintegrate. He saw my ego collapse. He saw my need, which is to say, he saw his complete and unqualified victory over me. He had expected it, he had engineered it, and because he wanted it—solely because it was his desire—it had come to pass.

"...p-please..." I repeated, hesitantly, gasping for air.

His upper lip curled up in a mirthless grin. There was a sparkle in his eye, but it was not of delight—it was unspeakable. It was cruel.

"No," he said coldly, and pushed me away as someone knocked on the door, possibly Quatre.

For a moment, my head cleared. In an instant, I formed a plan of escape. The door opened and a roommate I recognized as the one who copied Dierk's moves, Raban, stepped inside. I clasped my sweat-infused hands together and ran from the room before the door closed.

Quatre was there, waiting for me and looking sick. "D-d—_Scythe_!"

I shook my head and he just fell in beside me. Running helped overcome my rising rage. Rage at how he had humiliated me. Rage that I would have let him. And rage that the first thing I wanted to do upon my return to my room was engage in the most violently explosive solo orgasm it had ever been my shame to indulge. But while running, the rage slowly turned over to steely resolve: I was taking this guy down. I didn't care what it would take. I had begun to undergo a paradigm shift.

Along the way I told Quatre a few of the details, what I could say without screaming and still letting him now I was physically okay.

"Do not talk to me," I roared as I shouldered my way into our room. "_Sand_, get me some absorbent paper. I don't care what kind. I got this asshole's sweat on my hands and it's full of chemicals."

There was a coded rap on the outer door. Quatre rushed to my side, unrolling a sheaf of paper towels.

"The Maguanacs have already taken away those drugs you collected," he said. "But Amid is back to see if you need anything. They want to know if there is—"

"Good. He can take this too."

I finished wiping off my hands and rolled the papers into a tight tube. Trowa appeared, opened a plastic evidence bag into which I dropped the soiled roll, and he zipped it closed. Quatre took the packet.

"Sweat for analysis," he said to Amid. "Same as the drugs. We need the results, and a cure, ASAP."

"We have the finest technicians and laboratory at your command," Amid said. His earrings looked heavy enough to anchor a small boat and jangled when he bowed low, hiding the parcel on the rolling cart he used to deliver food. "All will be done," he said then exited with haste.

Quatre collapsed on his bed.

"We did it," we said simultaneously.

"Thanks for the knock. Saved me, bud."

I was about to ask about the others, when Heero and Wufei entered the room just returning from weapons testing. Trowa asked them how their tests went, giving Quatre and me a moment to gather our thoughts and catch our breaths, As they told us about their ordeal, I stripped out of my nice clothes and into a t-shirt and shorts, listening carefully to every detail of the testing, how they did, what we could look forward to, and how we could succeed; well, at least Quatre did. I was still too wound up to concentrate.

Wufei wanted to know what had happened with Dierk, and I gave them the short story.

"I got caught straightening the room. Dierk was there showering. Listen, I got the stuff out okay and he didn't notice and I'm here safe and sound."

"But—" Wufei started. I could tell he wanted to fill in the gaps in my story that were big enough to fly a Gundam through.

Heero noticed I was about to blow and saved me. "You, Barton, and Winner are up in two hours, if you want to spar."

"Ah, thanks, but what I need is a run. Alone."

He nodded solemnly, moved aside, and let me leave. I unlocked the door to the outside. I started running. I needed to clear my head. Blindly I ran and ran, kicking some guy out of my way, except he remained in place, stopping me with a mind-jarring wall of muscle.

"Shit!" Claus said. "What the hell was that for?! I feel like I just stepped on a mine and got my leg blown off."

I recognized the voice as that of a friend. "Sorry. Bad run-in with Dierk," I mumbled.

"S'Okay, then." Claus shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged his shoulders in demure apology. "Yeah, missed meeting you at the room. Couple of your mates showed us the billiard room."

God he was cute. He turned to renew his saunter down the path.

"Sorry. I overreacted. I need to get all this anger out of my system."

He nodded. "Go ahead. Catch ya later."

I spent half an hour in a warm up run around the pool emptying my mind of him. Since Heero introduced me to running, it had become somewhat of a Zen experience for me. I found that the day's cares and troubles melted away as the blood moved from my brain into my muscles. It felt really good to be able to spend an hour and a half not having to think, plan, or problem solve. I set my pace a little faster than I was used to. Four miles later, I was a little winded, but enjoying the beta-endorphin rush I always got after a good run and blissfully brain dead. All distractions had left me. I was ready to change my clothes, again, and go play soldier boy.

Heero and Wufei had blown out the stats for the weapons demonstrations. A hand gun was like a natural appendage for Heero. He nailed all the targets in a simple course, cleaned his gun, and returned it five minutes before the next boy finished with the target practice. Wufei handled the sword as if he'd used it all his life, which he had. All Trowa, Quat and I had to do was keep even with the multitudes of other boys, but we ended up showing off.

Trowa rewired a security alarm to set off a charge so he didn't have to do it manually. The observers had no idea it was even possible. Quatre took apart two laser rifles and re-constructed them into a single double-barreled super-soaker in less time than the competition deconstructed one. When my turn came, I ran the gauntlet: defusing a bomb, firing on targets, evading a barrage of what I think were actual bullets, and climbing, crawling, slithering, and rolling to avoid obstacles. I won. Yippee.

And then, there he was, Dierk. He had just arrived. Thankfully, I hadn't been distracted before my turn.

His exquisite beauty rushed at me like an express train, and, with all the blood in my legs and without the ability to think, I stopped short, gaped, and stared. By the time my wits returned to me, it was too late. He was staring at me stare at him, an evil, condescending grin spreading across his lips. He ripped off his outer shirt, revealing bulging muscles and a glued-on black tank. I was caught red-_minded_, as it were, and from his narrow-eyed cocky examination, it was immediately evident that he knew exactly what I was thinking. I could actually feel myself blush under the knowing scrutiny of his gaze. He got up off the bench, and walked toward the door on his way to the water fountain. Despite the ample width of the entry way in which I stood, he walked directly at me. Just in time, I took a side step to avoid him running over me, and as he passed, his arm grazed mine, easily pushing mine out of the way. The sweat that rubbed off from his muscle cooled on my skin, and a chill ran down my spine.

We'd better get a serum against men like him, and fast.

Trowa and Quatre stood by me, near to swooning as well. Together, we made it back to our room. Contact with him was a killer, for sure. Rashid greeted us at the door, returning the bag of purloined bottles.

"That was fast," I said.

"Analysis is underway. These may be returned, if you wish. No fear, the contents have been replaced with inert ingredients. The owner will not notice, but the system changes should become apparent by morning."

Once again, I agreed to switch out the bottles. Heero led the others to rout Dierk's other inmates from their room for another swim in the pool before dinner, while I slipped in, replaced the bottles under Dierk's bed, and left to join them. If he hadn't noticed their absence earlier, then all would be well.

End, It's Back to Work, Chapter Twenty


	28. It’s Back to Work Chapter 21

**DEFYING GRAVITY**

Part Two: It's Back to Work

**Chapter Twenty-One**

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Gundam Wing or its characters, nor do I make any monetary profit off this story.  
Warnings: 1x2x1, 3x4x3, AU, yaoi, some language

--Kaeru Shisho 6/19/2007 Wufei's POV

* * *

I might have worried more about some retribution from Dierk. I am prone to fretting over the future, and there certainly were plenty of reasons for him to come after us. Still, well, there are always mitigating circumstances to consider and life-changing events to endure. Lucky numbers be damned. 

I return to Dierk. If he discovered that something was amiss, Maxwell would be his prime suspect. I couldn't believe it when Maxwell told us he'd been caught by Dierk in his room. Maxwell, the self-proclaimed master of stealth, entered that man's room, discovered that it was occupied, remained inside anyway, and hadn't even warned Winner, who was standing just outside the door.

"Dierk was in the shower. He could only have beaten us to the room by seconds and a shower would take at least ten minutes. It wasn't a rash decision to give it a try, I don't think. There was adequate time to collect the materials," Winner said. He added breezily, "It all worked out fine."

"Not an unreasonable risk," Yuy said, agreeing.

Yuy was too accepting of the situation, I thought, but then he was biased toward Maxwell. That man could get away with nearly anything, even murder, possibly, and Yuy would excuse it. Well, actually he had gotten away with murder many times so that wasn't a good example. What was worse? He had gotten away with philandering, too, so my point was valid. Anything. Yuy was being led around by his dick; in fact, they all were. Here I thought that was just a stereotype perpetuated by the straight population, because I, it seemed, was entirely unaffected by Maxwell's charms, or Quatre's or whomever's.

In an affair overflowing with fit, pampered young men, I would have to be the clear head, _as usual_.

"I agree, and it was a lucky thing that Duo had an excuse like cleaning up for having been in there, when he had to go back," Winner said.

Leave it to _him_ to take Maxwell's side. _Another _one Duo had in his back pocket, and, worse, his bed! The guilty party was in the bathroom changing clothes, so Winner came to his defense. Yuy hardly questioned the entire incident. Trowa was worthless in a confrontation like this.

It all rested on _my_ shoulders.

Well, so be it. I always _knew _I had the strongest, most resilient constitution. Maxwell was on the verge of a nervous breakdown and would jeopardize the mission, if I didn't take control. I was strong. Always had been.

"Lucky?" Yuy asked, but not with any force or interest.

"He was lucky to come out alive, that's what he was!" I snapped. "Are you telling us that Dierk knew Maxwell had been there; at least, that _Scythe_ had been there long enough to, what, _clean his room?" _I scoffed, incredulous of Winner's account.

Winner shrugged off my concerns. Now there's a kid who never cleaned a thing in his life until Barton turned it into a sex game in the living room. He was good with the laundry; I'll give him that much. Who ever taught him that skill deserves a medal, and since it was likely to be Barton again, drape _him_ in the damned things.

"When has Maxwell ever taken time out of his day to clean anything, much less a near-stranger's room?" I argued, loudly. "Maxwell is not an orderly person."

"He keeps the kitchen clean," Trowa put in, unconstructively, the traitor.

And here I was garnishing him with accolades. Why was Barton defending Maxwell? Why was he even speaking to Winner after what he and Maxwell have put him trhough? How could Yuy and Barton be so damned professional and look the other way while their supposed boyfriends frolicked in bed? I wanted to shout out loud, but didn't. What I said instead came out as weak, too weak.

"_But_ he leaves his belongings lying about the house, so his behavior can't be explained as just an average cleaning mania."

I held my tongue for a split second as Maxwell strode through the room, grabbing a water bottle and heading for the outer door. I was unable to read his mood; mine was too intense, but I blocked his exit. I would not allow him to avoid this confrontation like he slithered out of the other one. My tongue recouped its control.

"Just a minute, Maxwell. Is it true that you wasted time, time you could have used searching for the illegal drugs and making a safe exit, _cleaning Dierk's room?_ What were you thinking? It was as if you wanted to get caught. I demand to know why!"

Maxwell wasn't able to or willing to explain his actions. I intended to press him, but Yuy inserted his presence between us and let him run off, as in "go running," essentially to avoid the issue and my determination to reveal his psychotic state. Incensed as I was, I had to fight to keep my mind clear.

There had to be _at least_ one level and mission-ready head around the place.

Perhaps it was better that Maxwell was gone, giving me leave to further discuss this with Yuy, Barton and Winner. I was certain Maxwell was losing his grip on reality and this was just another slip up.

"Lucky?" Yuy repeated to Winner, as if nothing I had said mattered.

"Yes, Duo had gone back to get his lost name badge—"

"Ah, ha! Something _else_ that's been kept from us, Yuy in particular!" I pointed out with no little amount of satisfaction.

Now we were getting someplace. That got his attention. I hoped Yuy was keeping track of the infractions to date. Soon, I would have him thinking along the same lines as I, drawing the inevitable conclusions.

"He lost his name badge in the room? He's never that sloppy doing his job," Yuy insisted.

Well, I'd often thought Maxwell was a bit lax in his work, but Winner passed it off like the commonplace, errant, flyby shooting.

"Accidents happen. Anyway, I think Dierk expected others to clean up after him."

"Pardon, me? Why would you assume that?" I asked. "That doesn't follow from anything you've said before."

Winner sighed. I did not like the patently condescending smile leveled my way. I would knock him senseless if he had another piece of secreted information to submit for Maxwell's defense.

"You may not like Mr. Peacecraft very much, but he is knowledgeable in psychology. By "others" I meant very submissive boys. Men like Dierk have others at their beck and call most of the time. His teammates are mostly servile toward him in the room, Habib told me. He delivers them their food. Duo, acting as _Scythe_, must have been a terrific actor to appear subservient and docile enough to convince his man he was telling the truth and then to let him stay longer."

"So, you think Maxwell did the cleaning on purpose ahead of time to lay a plausible excuse for being in the room in case Dierk caught him?" Yuy asked, as if he believed Maxwell was capable of making premeditated, prudent, and rational decisions.

"Yes, because he knew Dierk was in there when he went in."

"Say, _what_?! You let him go in alone!" I growled. "I can't believe the two of you didn't check out the room together. You let an irrational person like Maxwell go in there by himself, making critical decisions?"

_Was I the only sane one left?_ I might have had my hands around Winner's neck at the time, but only to shake a little sense into the man. Barton interceded at this point, not to help me, God forbid, but more likely fearing I might harm his boyfriend.

"Chill, Chang. Sit and listen," Barton murmured in a calming way, reminding me of some fakir of transcendental meditation.

Barton had a kind of New Age gestalt going that was pissing me off. Yuy liked it, though, and obviously Winner lapped it up. He didn't actually get up off the bed, which at least meant he knew I wasn't mad enough to damage Winner, and, since I didn't want to appear like an out-of-control lunatic, I released the dainty little neck. I didn't sit, but I backed off. No blood was spilled, but plenty was in danger of boiling over.

"I hope you didn't leave marks, Wufei. I'll bet you did. (_yip, yip, yip!_) This collar's got all kinds of hardware that digs in when you grab at it," Winner whined and bitched, rubbing at his neck and making it red where it wasn't before."

"Humph," I sniffed.

Winner narrowed his eyes my way. He could look menacing when he cared to. Believe me, those big blue eyes could carry off the innocent look only so far. He and I had been the course enough times on missions together that he couldn't fool me or soften me up. No, I knew Winner well, so he blessed me with an honest-to-God, menacing expression.

"I'm sure Duo thought he could get the evidence before Dierk was done in the shower, and he did, but his badge came off when he crawled under the bed. He didn't notice it until he was about out the door, but he did see it then. I ran the samples to Rashid, believing Duo had made it out. Amid told me he was still in the room, so I returned and waited by the door."

Yes, it had _all _come down to me. Proof, crackpot-Duo-data trickling down bit by bit rather than a massive slam, but there you have it.

"And _none_ of you think this was not the least bit _odd_?" I asked.

"No, not under the circumstances." Winner checked his watch. "I'm going to change clothes in the bathroom, before Duo gets back."

Trowa, unconcerned and irresponsible as he could possibly be, lay back on his bed, arms folded behind his neck. "If you want to worry about anything, Chang, go check on Maxwell. He won't have much time to get ready for the weapons trial soon, right? And, more importantly, he's out alone now. Dierk could find him—"

Yuy and I slammed the door in our rush to get out, cutting off his final words. How could Yuy have not thought of protecting that idiot himself?! He depended on me to think of everything. Well, it was too much at times.

We located Maxwell, on his way back to our building, safe and sound and smiling without a care in the world, the damn fool. Oh, he had a few cares, which he shared, loudly, as usual. He rambled on about the heat, which would be perfectly tolerable if he stayed out of it; wondered if he had time for a swim, which he did not since he'd used up all his free time running like a madman; hoped we had more water, his was used up, which we did; and on and on. Yuy answering him in a relaxed manner, me fuming, alone in the knowledge that Maxwell was a walking, ticking-talking-- God, _always_ talking-- time bomb. He just worried me to death at times.

After Yuy and I delivered the other three to the testing grounds, he asked if I might wish to spar a while. He had the audacity to tell me that I "seemed pretty tightly wound." When I nearly bit his head off, he punched me. One thing led to another, we exchanged blows, blew off some steam, he agreed that his boyfriend was "a little tense," and I felt marvelous.

_Headway_. I was making headway.

Trowa, Winner, and Maxwell returned from the testing in high spirits, laughing about their achievements. Yuy and I met them at the door, hoping to extract answers from Maxwell. He, however, slipped past us to "shower," and disappeared into Zechs' chambers.

Zechs was not in. He was busy negotiating, using our asses like bargaining chips in the kinds of underhanded dealings the man was tops at. Once an OZ man, always an OZ man. "OZ ", which stood for Operation Zodiak, an asinine, ersatz reference to the metaphysical like every idiotic thing else I despised at the moment.

Barton "did a Maxwell" and escaped to our bathroom to shower, leaving the unfortunate Winner to wait his turn with Yuy and me.

Naturally, that forced me to direct the discussion back to the important topic of the weak link in our chain of command, Maxwell. I pointed out that another reason to be concerned about a vengeful Dierk was because there had been time for him to discover his missing stash of drugs. For a couple hours, between the moment _Scythe_ had left his room and when he had to report to the range for the weaponry display, Dierk could have gone for a dose and discovered that the bottles were missing.

"You are right. Even a weak-minded, body-building, drug-snorting, pill-pushing, man-for-hire-whore like Dierk could put two and two together and place the blame on _Scythe_!" Yuy growled.

He wasn't the least bit tongue-tied now. See how my powers were working? Sooner or later, my will would assert itself.

Again, Winner, bless his evil, shriveled up soul, caught us both by surprise when he said, "Oh, he didn't seem mad just now, when we passed him leaving the testing grounds."

"Dierk _saw_ Maxwell, just _now_, _again_?!" I shot out before Yuy could. "Did he say anything to you about that when he came in?" I asked Yuy.

He glowered and answered starchly, "No," leaving me to fill in, "Obviously not in the milliseconds of time he had before Maxwell had escaped to the shower."

"Did Dierk _do_ anything?" I pushed for some answers as usual. I hoped I wouldn't have to get more inventive. I'd had good luck getting the truth from the mouths of drug lords. An ex-Gundam pilot would be far trickier.

"Yes, but it only lasted a moment. I think he might have bumped Duo, but he wasn't in a bad mood." A tiny "thought" crease formed between Winner's eyebrows. "I would have felt that, but all I felt was his, ah, strong, male aura."

Yes, Winner would have felt that, which meant he must now be aware of Yuy's rising ire and, worse, his jealousy. Winner was privy to information about Maxwell that he wasn't. Winner had been Maxwell's best friend for longer than Yuy had been Maxwell's boyfriend. Winner had slept with Maxwell, which was an inexcusable act of weakness, but I placed the blame solely on Maxwell and his madness. Well, mostly.

I don't know how Yuy had forgiven the transgression, or if he had. He certainly saw Winner as a rival. Yuy had been a focused, detached soldier; he'd never had a challenger that he couldn't simply shoot to get out of the way, which made me wonder how many times he'd considered pulling the trigger on my partner. However, Winner was not actually in competition for the other man's attention. Even I could tell he was infatuated with Barton, not Maxwell. Yes, Winner understood Yuy far better than visa versa, which was apparent from his next statement.

"You weren't around when Duo came out of Dierk's room or he would have told you first, I'm sure," he said, trying to mollify Yuy. "Heero, Wufei—I know you are both worried about Duo's mental stability, and I have to admit, before you joined us, Heero, I was questioning it, too. But, he's been so much more stable since you've been with him. I think he's—"

"Hn."

_Oh, come on, Winner, don't let Yuy get away with that! That's not even a word!_

"It's true," Qutre replied just as if Yuy had said something intelligent. "Duo doesn't care what I think about him, so he tells me stuff, admits defeats, and opens up. I'm just his friend. You are so much more to him. He wants you to admire him, Yuy, and I think he's just afraid you'll worry too much or that you won't respect him if he makes mistakes or appears weak."

"But I wouldn't—"

"Wouldn't you?" Winner asked. "It's only normal to do that, make judgments. You and Wufei are both worried he's going to lose it now that we're nearing the end of this mission. Maybe that's a part of why he always took these solo missions, I don't know. Wouldn't a break down on the job like that change how you feel about him?"

Yuy said nothing.

"What if _I_ fell apart? Wouldn't you think less of my abilities?" Winner continued. "I've made lots of slip ups, but nothing serious. What if I made an error in judgment that really mattered?"

_You did! Don't let him get away with that, Yuy! No, no, no! _

"Possibly," he said.

"But still—" I began, unable to hold back another moment.

"Of course you would! And that would hurt, because you are friends and teammates and the people who mean the most to me. I'd never mean or want to let you down, but… but if Trowa's opinion of me was damaged, that kind of pain would be so much worse. Horrible!"

_Well..._

His eyes held mine then moved briefly to Yuy's then dropped before he met Yuy's again. "Duo needs reassurance that you love him, regardless. He needs private time with you—" Winner's face smoothed out and he smiled. "I know! He'll be out of the shower in a minute. If you'd like, I'll keep Milliardo out of his room, should he return soon. You and Duo can have a few minutes alone before we have to get dressed."

"Thank you."

And Yuy was lost. His focus gone south. I could see lust in his eyes and knew my concerns were of no importance. At least, _I_ was immune and above it all. I hoped to God it was enough.

"Heero," Winner went on with the knowledge that he was on a roll. "I never told you how sorry I was for what had happened in New Italy. I was more than a little responsible for what happened between us. I wanted to know… if it was possible we had a spark. I knew I loved Trowa more than anyone in my life, but there was this itch, this question I needed answered. And then we were playing these roles... The alcohol removed our inhibitions, or it wouldn't have gone as far as it did, but there was no spark, Heero. We ended up talking about you and Trowa and how much we missed you. Still, I'm sorry. I hurt Trowa and you and our trust. I know how I'd feel if it had been you and Trowa… together. I'm really sorry."

"I believe you," Yuy said.

_Of course you do,_ I groaned to myself.

"I wish it hadn't happened—that's all. Well, that and I wish this was over," Yuy said. I anticipated him to say more, but, instead, he chose to join his boyfriend in a moment of privacy, despite everything. "He'll need help with that damned hair of his."

So, Yuy left, closing the door behind him. I hoped that Winner's assessment of Maxwell's mental stability was correct, but I was prepared to shoulder the load alone, if that's what it finally came down to, in order to see the mission through to a successful end. To see justice serviced to its righteous end, we of the ancient Chang clan have always been prepared to stand alone.

Winner met Zechs at the door a few minutes later. When Barton entered the room, towel drying his hair, Winner took his turn in the shower, but only after we all promised to stay out of Zech's room, Zechs included. The man looked worn. He fell into an armchair with a weary-sounding sigh.

"I have our rankings. I'll wait until everyone's here before sharing it. Is there some iced tea?"

"Tea, yes, but Heero and Duo are busy resting. The rest of us will see to it that they are filled in," Quatre said brightly.

Later, refreshed and with the three of us in attendance, the other two indisposed, Zechs reported the results. "The good news is that our 'Team _Wind_' has moved up in the standings significantly after the weaponry skill show. The bad is that we are neck-and-neck with that 'Team _Sieger_,' which is—yes—our alpha male, Dierk's, group. They will be tough to beat."

Winner directed his knowing smile at the man. "Mr. Peacecraft," he began. "We believe that Dierk was taking drugs, adding to his charisma, his power, and making him able to control others, somehow. We, ah, collected his medication, sent it out for analysis, and had it replaced with a placebo. If it made him what he was, then by tomorrow he should be something less."

Zechs straightened in his chair. "When…ah…how did you do that?"

"It was Heero's idea. Duo found and removed the drugs from his room. I gave them to my corps for further study. Trowa, Wufei and—"

"Leave me out of this," I muttered, but no one paid attention.

"Heero kept the others away from the room. Was it pool or—"

"Billiards," Trowa supplied.

"Billiards. My father used to love that game," Winner said wistfully.

"Mine, too," Zechs said. "He had a parlor with two tables. Parties every week. Very competitive. I believe money was exchanged, but that was very hush-hush."

I could not stand it! No mention of a Maxwell on edge, insanely cleaning the rooms of our rivals, dropping badges, or getting caught. Had anybody wondered what happened to him after he was caught? Maybe he was drugged? Maybe he would become, oh…dear…God… The thought of a drugged-up Maxwell-turned-alpha male hit me smack in my headache zone. Yuy groveling at his feet. Barton and Winner slavering like bitches in heat. I despaired of any end to this mission where we came out of this place intact. I felt the rise of panic threaten to down my consciousness; of course, if it damped out the headache it wouldn't be so bad to succumb—

No! I _must_ regain my center. I _must_ remain the firm foundation. I _would_ do my job. I would run verification tests on our collars. Regular maintenance of sensitive equipment was essential, but easily put off in the face of other distractions. I opened Yuy's laptop to first initiate the security scan on the collar feeds. It was a fabulous idea. Security check--okay.

"What is that blinking light about?" Barton asked laconically. He wasn't about to get up and see for himself.

"How would I know? This is Yuy's computer." I continued to tick off the tests.

Zechs' voice, but not the man himself—no, he remained loosely draped over our only comfortable chair—his voice rose over the drone of the cooling fan.

"It's alerting you to an incoming, scrambled message from Commander Une; at least, that's what it did back at the house."

"Oh." I clicked on the icon and set off a blizzard of programs all chewing on the message and spitting it out in ever increasingly understandable text. The blinking stopped.

"She's sent us the breakdown on the drugs Gunter used on Duo. No surprises, except for a weak solvent containing male pheromones."

I read the scientific drivel and saved it to the desktop for the others to look over. More power to them if they could make any sense of it. Not my _forte._ Winner suggested that he forward the data to his Maguanacs in case there were parallels with the drugs Dierk was taking.

I let him copy, encode, and send away. When he returned the computer to my hands, the computer whined.

"What's wrong with the damned thing now?" I growled. "What did you do to it, Barton?"

"Odd…"

Yuy tore into the room, nearly ripping the machine from me. well, actually ripping it out of my hands. "What are you doing?"

"I was running maintenance programs on the collars, testing them, which was already overdue, when a message came from Commander Une. You can read it. Right. There."

I pointed to the saved file. He scanned it, making no more or it than I, I'm certain. He was no chemist. He busied himself accessing his computer security. A moment later, the whine shut off.

"Thanks," said Barton.

"Remora," Yuy said.

"Who?" I asked.

Barton turned around and addressed us all. "It's a fish with a sucker-like mouth that attaches itself to the skin of sharks and whales. The remora benefits by using the host as transport and protection and also feeds on materials dropped by the host. The host loses nothing in the partnership." Barton smiled. "Oughta watch 'Blue Planet' on the Science network."

"Also a form of commensalist virus transfer, but in this case, not a virus…"

"What are you talking about?" I snapped. I took back the laptop with a jerk. "Never mind. I haven't time for this nonsense if I'm going to complete the collar verification tests."

"A message attached itself to the one from Une." Yuy tapped me on the head. "It's from Doctor Sally Po, to you. Look. Read."

He left me alone, moving to sit on the bed near Trowa and Quatre as Duo shimmered into the room. Zechs watched me from the chair. I read the short note. Read it again, and again. Next thing I knew, Winner was supporting the falling laptop with one hand and propping up my shoulder with another.

"Wufei!"

I sat mute and blind as if I'd been mind-wiped by OZ. I could feel Winner move the laptop. I couldn't object to his reading the few decoded words. Maybe he would read it differently.

"Oh, my. She's pregnant? Strange, I thought you were seeing her."

"Sally Po?" Zechs asked. "The doctor?"

Reality set in.

Winner said, "Oh, Wufei, congratulations!"

Suddenly, in a matter of bits transferring from screen to brain my world changed. My worries over Dierk vanished. Sally was pregnant with my child. His drugs were replaced; that would settle him, wouldn't it? No problem then. What was I thinking? She was carrying my baby. Besides, we could look out for ourselves. _Mine._ Let the Maguanacs watch the doors. What a worry wort I had been! Mine, if she lets me remain a part of her life. She must! It's the start of a new Chang dynasty! Oh, she must!

I vaguely recalled Maxwell's slap on the back, Winner's excited voice, Zechs muttering, and not much else.

"What are you going to do?" Barton asked.

I had no idea.

"He's going to send her a message back and tell her he is _thrilled_, that is what he is going to do." That was Winner. "Do you need help composing it?"

I looked at him.

"Of course he does. He might turn out something insensitive like: 'are you sure?' or 'tough shit' or 'so?'." That was Maxwell.

Yuy simply stared at me and the second head I'd apparently grown, blinked, then returned to his laptop. He tapped on the keys at a furious rate.

"Tests are complete. Ranges are within acceptable parameters. I can construct a return messenger for your note, but it must be under 50 characters long and you have five minutes."

Yuy dumped the laptop on my legs and walked away to put on his shoes. I stared at the keyboard.

"Dynamic life changes are hell on a guy's perspective, aren't they?" Barton patted me on the back. He was commiserating, not joking.

"Yes."

"No shit!" Maxwell agreed. "You know, none of the rest of us will probably ever reproduce, so this is going to be, like, ours, too. He's gonna be the most spoiled kid in all the galaxy. And Sally's gonna be a great mom. She's terrific. You'll be a great dad, I know it. Man, this is so cool, I mean, your kid's gonna be gorgeous and smart and sooooo fuckin' lucky."

"You think so?" I looked up and he smiled kindly. I saw tears. He loved kids.

"Yep, I don't lie, ya know."

"That is true."

He grinned. "I know my numbers. There's the five of us and look at the date!"

A very lucky number, a very lucky day. "Thanks, Duo."

"She must miss you right now," Barton said, surprising me with his sensitivity.

"She took a risk sending this to you," Yuy said, his tone harsh, but then he added in what could only have been a tender tone, "She must love you very much to do that."

"Yes." She must. I knew then what I had to do. "Okay, I'm ready to send that note."

What did I write to her, the future mother of my child? My mind was on a carousal ride up and down, flashes of brilliance, frights, joys, but always coming around to the same thing: baby, mine. How did I summarize my carnival-crazy mix of feelings and communicate something meaningful in 50 characters or less? I concentrated on the encouraging words of my friends.

_**"Thrilled. We'll be great parents. Miss you. Love you—05" **_

Yuy crushed the file into a mess of decomposed ones and zeros and launched it into outer space. Zechs rounded us up and directed us to dinner, a large affair where all the sellers and their wares were expected to eat in communal enjoyment. I didn't taste a thing. Before we were excused, we were reminded of the final show the next late afternoon. The Sale. The End. I don't know how I slept that night, but I did.

(o)

"What are you looking at?" I asked Barton.

He picked up a handful of rocks, chose two to keep and tossed the rest. He was dressed and ready to go. Nerves, probably, drove him outside. He stared off into the distance. Through a gap between two buildings we could see a fence topped with security fencing, sand, dunes, and the Atlas Mountains rising above a beige haze. Beyond the mountains lay the sky.

"Lots and lots of sand."

"Yes," I agreed. "There is a plethora of sand. Nature, abhorring a vacuum, must have said, 'There's a space. Drop a shitload of sand in it. And another, and another—'"

He chuckled, snorted, and broke into loud, raucous laughter. Warmth spread throughout my chest and I wondered if this was how Maxwell felt when one of his jokes cheered us. The others joined us one at a time.

With a new-found clarity, I saw what was important in my life: Sally Po and my friendships with the other four ex-Gundam pilots. My work became a distant third. This was a complete reversal from a couple years ago, and a reshuffling of my priorities of only the day before.

Heero stood stiffly, solemn and tense. "Everything's packed and secured. Amid is scheduled to arrive for pick up after all teams have moved into the hall."

The hot sun reflected and refracted on Barton and Winner's copper-colored hair and when they turned, sparked their intensely colored eyes, blue and green. God did the lighting for those two.

Winner gestured with one of his hands and Barton shrugged, offering an alternative with a head tilt. Winner shook his head and Barton sighed.

"Are you two going to communicate by semaphore from now on or let us all in on the secret?" Maxwell asked.

Winner giggled, I think, and Maxwell stepped around them, his braid swinging around. When it hit me on the leg, I opened my hand and caught it on the next arc. I had never touched it before. It was heavy, finer than a rope, and fit perfectly in my fist. I wondered if Yuy liked playing with it and flushed with shame for imagining such a personal moment, only to find I was brushing the soft tip against my palm.

"'Fei?" Maxwell's voice, naturally. He tugged gently on the braid, freeing it. "You okay?"

"Undo it," I said.

"What? My braid? Are you serious?"

"Yes. No one has hair like yours. The Buyers won't be able to keep their eyes off of you. You will assure our team the highest price."

"'Kay, 'Fei," he said, quietly. "You start at the bottom and unwind."

Yuy left and returned with a hair brush. "You'll need this," he said, handing it to me.

That seemed too intimate a gesture for me, so I demurred, shaking my head and backing away. I watched as Heero and Maxwell finished the job; we all did. We also adjusted one another's clothes, which were combinations of shirts, vests, and slacks, but not suits and ties. Zechs suggested the casual, young professional look. With his hair down, Maxwell was stunning and, hopefully, our ticket to the top.

Before we left our rooms, Maxwell reached out and pulled off the elastic holding back my hair. "You, too," he said. "Now, let's hope Heero isn't recognized. He's the hardest to disguise."

Yuy raised the hairbrush and drew it through his own hair, brushing the bangs away from his forehead, changing his appearance instantly. "Okay?"

"Who is that sexy looking guy?" Maxwell asked me, joking.

Yuy smiled and looked away self-consciously. Maxwell chuckled and touched his arm, his affection apparent but not overt. I would never have paired them together, in a romantic sense, but there was no denying their mutual fondness. I thought of Miss Po. Sally. Warmth filled my heart and sorrow compressed it. I knew I missed her.

When had these people become so much more important to me than seeing 'justice served' and accomplishing some ephemeral goal? Since I learned I was to become a father, certainly, but even before that, the change had been forming, I had been evolving. Now, I was surely a man, no longer a boy.

"Hey, beautiful."

I jumped, but Maxwell was addressing Yuy.

"Remember, it's far better to be looked _over_ than over_looked_. Am I right?"

"Yes," Yuy laughed, raking the fingers of one hand through a length of Maxwell's scandalously, long, golden-brown hair. "Lots. Now, come on. Let's go get this over with."

Each team of boys with their master-sellers was grouped according to ranking and seated in rows ribboned off on one side of the cavernous conference hall. The prospective buyers were seated on the other side of the room. Starting with the lowest rankings, each team would be called to parade up the aisle, up the steps to the stage, and past the announcer's dais, to stand with the other teams. Our team name would follow _Wind_ on stage as one of the last five called. Our final position in the standings would be determined and the auctioning off of our bodies would begin.

"There he is," Winner said, poking me in the side. "He's lost some of that confidence, don't you think?"

Dierk barely smiled as he made his languid (and hopefully drug-free) way down the row to sit with his team, _Sieger_. Claus' sigh was huge and resigned as he rose to let him pass. He reeked of martyrdom, but not infatuation, not anymore. Dierk's _thank's_ simply breathed of feigned deference, as did his paralytic smirk as he slid into his hard folding chair.

"I hesitate to jump to conclusions, but I'd say yes," I said.

"His glow is gone," Maxwell said in a low voice, but his eyes were shining.

The wait was interminable. We were at battle ground zero only we had no weapons and our strategy was basically to do nothing but wait for the outcome. The most disgustingly evil men were parked in the room. I could see their faces, crimped smiles, leers, their dirty hands jotting notes. I wanted to hurt that guy. Pound that one next to him in the face. Drill a hole through that other. Slam him. But I didn't. I smiled slyly, knowingly, cunningly. Wait.

The ranks of trade-boys stood in ordered lines, awaiting commands. There was an army in the making, waiting for its youthful leaders, its lieutenants, to be declared. Of all these young men, the five of us, the ex-Gundam pilots, had the war service and experience to make us ideal soldiers to fill those leadership roles. We could lead troops, train troops. We were exactly what they were looking for, and more—in another universe.

Zechs stood. Our turn to walk the plank. I was absolutely right about Maxwell. Every eye was locked on his shimmering hair, swinging with his cocksure walk. From the moment he stood, he was the center of attention. The rest of us could have been totally nude and no one would have noticed, well, cared. Team _Sieger_ was lost in the sea of blondes.

What was I thinking, while I followed Maxwell to stand beneath the designated spotlight? I was thinking of names, boys names, girl names, what I might name my first born. Barton stepped on my foot to get my attention.

"Wake up. They're asking questions."

"Let's see," one of the buyers was saying, addressing us. "Which one of your boys is this outstanding firearms specialist?"

Zechs replied. "That would be _Wing_."

"These results are nothing short of miraculous from just a boy."

Yuy nodded a single, curt move, wasting no energy.

"Martial arts. Which one won every round—the Chinaman? I'm not crazy about _chynamin_, but this one is remarkable, very pretty."

I wanted to kick the man's head off with my _pretty_ foot, but I merely dipped my chin, barely acknowledging his existence. There were several people in the world that I found obnoxious and he embodied all of them.

"Technical abilities, weapon skills, fighters, and beauty-- _Wind_, you have assembled an extraordinary team. Any of them could be of immediate use to me, although, that beauty with the mane…it would be a shame for him to get damaged in battle."

"That's what I always thought," Maxwell whispered to us.

"Thank you," _Wind_ replied. "I only deal in the best."

As the buyer's sickening, lascivious smile spread across his face, all I could think about was that his ancestors must number in the millions, and it was hard to believe that many people were to blame for producing a creature like him.

End, It's Back to Work, Chapter Twenty-One


	29. It’s Back to Work Chapter 22

**DEFYING GRAVITY**

Part Two: It's Back to Work

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Gundam Wing or its characters, nor do I make any monetary profit off this story.  
Warnings: 1x2x1, 3x4x3, AU, yaoi, some language  
--Kaeru Shisho 7/2/2007 Heero's POV

* * *

The buyer twisted his mouth into a lewd smirk then remarked, "Team _Wind_ … so spectacular. You get first place. I will purchase the team in its entirety, if there are no competing offers." 

"He is our key target," Zechs whispered. "We found him. His name is—"

"Salvo!" barked a rival buyer nearby the principal buyer's chair. "You may have the final word on the sale, but there are other's with more than money at stake here. I for one wish to bid on the boys independently of one another."

Duo shifted from foot to foot, deciding his next move. "Data collection," he whispered.

I had a moment to register what Duo had said before he stepped away from my side, strode to stage edge, and peered over. Zechs reached out to stop Duo.

I blocked Zechs' arm, warning, "He's not an idiot. Watch."

Of course, I trusted Duo not to prove me wrong. There was a murmuring of confusion among the others on stage and no less from the buyers. Then Duo hopped down from the stage. Winner frowned slightly as Duo became pure _Scythe_ before his eyes, hips undulating in a wicked sashay and fingers combing through his thick hair seductively. Winner's face smoothed, he traced a finger lightly over Barton's' sleeve, and smiled. Barton understood and followed _Scythe_ only with his eyes, betraying nothing. Chang, lost in thoughts of his own, appeared oblivious.

Dierk weighed in on the opposite end of the scale. The pale rose of his lips took on a golden glaze from the overhead lights, as he set his face into a marble mask. After waiting a few moments while he stared down Scythe, he leaned forward as if willing him to return to his place on the stage. I watched, fascinated, as he threw Scythe a basilisk glance. Like that legendary reptile whose look was supposed to be fatal, that was all the warning we would get.

Winner jumped; he must have felt the warning jolt to my brain, or Dierk's. "Dierk knows," he whispered.

I nodded in affirmation. "Repercussions expected."

Winner modified our plans instantly. "_Shen_ and _Wing_, take down imminent danger. _Tamer_ with me to acquire shuttle destinations. Exit with Rashid in three."

As Winner passed on the information, Barton lowered his arms tensing as he mapped out their retreat route in his head and Chang stiffened, his eyes sliding to watch the alpha male.

To Zechs, I clarified our observations. "Dierk figured it out and is about to attack."

"It?" His raised his eyebrows, questioning my observations.

"_Yes!_"I hissed impatiently. "That _Scythe_ messed with his room." I lowered my voice and pressed my lips to Zechs ear angrily, but making it appear like an intimate caress. "_Scythe_ is collecting evidence, close ups of the buyers. See how he moves in on each man?"

Duo was drawing every eye his way. In a loud voice he was thanking the chief buyer, Salvo, for his generous praise, sliding past, nudging the next man, settling a moment on a rigid lap, shocking one man after another.

"—And what's your name? Fastis? Ooh, I like that," Duo hummed and winked and danced to the next buyer. "I like your tie, Italian? Mine, too. You from there? Really? I just got back."

"He shouldn't be down there. It's against the rules!" a seller in back voiced aloud.

"Hey, I'm working this to _my_ seller's advantage!" _Scythe_ shouted back. "That's my rules."

A rumble of appreciative laugher moved through the room like a storm, staving off any move, as yet, to stop _Scythe_. I could tell the buyers were alarmed at the break in tradition, but enjoying the attention from the overtly sexual, engaging young man—who, I tried not to remind myself, was my closest friend and lover. My eyes trained over the faces in the room. Rashid wore a bemused expression. His lips moved sending commands to his men through a microphone hidden in his beard, I guessed.

"Buy him time," Zechs concluded.

The rest of us were ahead of him on that one. Barton withdrew a pair of cylindrical rocks from his pocket, enfolding it in his hand, and passed one to Winner. Those fists could deliver repeated knockout punches. Chang measured the distance to his objective, calculating the necessary moves to level a perfect martial blow to maim, but not kill.

I felt as much as watched Dierk's steely, honed gaze shave _Scythe_ one last time—then, Dierk's venomous anger vented. The Furies (female personifications of vengeance in both Greek and Roman mythologies,) _Nemesis_, (a vengeful fate personified as a remorseless goddess of divine retribution against those who succumb to hubris,) and her attendant, _Poena_, (the Roman goddess of punishment,) could not have unleashed anything into that room more violent than Dierk.

He roared like a possessed demon—which, if he was in stage one throes of withdrawal from his drug addiction, he probably was—throwing off the hands of his owner and charging for the edge of the stage.

Chang stopped Dierk's first lunge with a roundhouse kick to the midriff. I met his next with an upper cut to his lowered chin, leaving Chang to take him to the floor on his recovery move, a chop to the throat. Winner and Barton prevented the rest of Team _Sieger_ from coming to his defense. Surprisingly, few of them bothered to raise a fist to help their fanatical, trade-boy mate, and those that did hadn't time to react to the sharp blows Team _Wind_ rained upon them.

All the while, _Scythe_ lifted wallets, note pads, cigars with DNA evidence embedded in the pressed leaves, even a few discs, mini-recording devices, and a Blackberry. Before security could stop him and reunite him with his 'handler', Rashid's corps circled him, providing him a means to slip them the evidence and exit to safety. The feed from _Scythe_'s collar alone could identify twenty men and send them to their prison fates.

Winner tugged at Barton's arm, pulling him toward the back of the stage, behind cover of the other boys, and exited the room. Their objective was to board the shuttles aimed at carrying the boys to the training camps and download the destinations to Preventers' receivers. _Scythe_ was gone, heading out of the building with one of Winner's loyal corpsmen; the Maguanacs providing our extraction security and vehicle.

"_Wind_, call for extraction. We'll meet at the Maguanacs shuttle," I reminded Zechs before chasing after Chang's back.

The mission parameters set down by commander Une were complete. With the pull out given a go ahead, all we had to do was execute a swift and safe departure. Preventer's agents would storm the buildings, make arrests, and remove the trade boys. Chang and I turned into the vast shuttle bay. Running by, he pointed at one of the craft's windows. Slumped over the controls was the body of one of the shuttle pilots, but only for a moment. It was pulled out of sight. Barton exited the shuttle executing a beautiful flying leap, which I envied.

"You have _Scythe?_" he asked.

My stomach lurched. "No! He left the room before us. He was with the Maguanacs."

"Not here, yet."

Chang ran ahead, pausing to speak to Zechs. Winner appeared to be in a heated discussion with his corps at the private shuttle already in countdown mode. He turned, shaking his head.

"He passed off all the evidence, but Amir and Ubaid ever made it back. He must still be with them!" Winner shouted.

"Go on, get on board. I'll go back for him," Barton said.

"No, get my laptop. We can pinpoint his position through his collar—_then_ we go back," I said.

I climbed aboard our craft, yearning to see Duo in the pilot's seat, running through the takeoff checklist. He just had to have gotten here first! Instead, only of the Maguanacs personnel occupied the cockpit. What could have happened to Duo? I shut off that useless train of thought. I dared not lose track of what I was doing. No. There had to be a mistake. I yanked out the laptop and powered it up. I'd just check the data emissions and locate him.

Barton sat beside Zechs in the shuttle where I was attempting to locate Duo's collar signal. Winner raced down the stairs from the co-pilot's seat speaking rapidly into a microphone. "So he was hit and carried off, but by whom? I see. Yes. Okay, if you have to secure the doors, then do it. We don't need a shoot out on this end."

"Well?" Zechs was seriously upset.

"Two Maguanacs were shot, Amir and Ubaid! Amir is conscious and he reports that Duo was struck, not shot, and carried away by an unknown assailant. Sahir has linked into the surveillance system around the conference room and is reviewing the—"

"Du…_Scythe_ is moving fast," I broke in. "Is there another launch area?"

"I'll ask!" Winner ran off, catching Rashid by the arm, and hauling him to where I worked.

The lights dimmed. The final stages of the countdown began and Duo was unaccounted for. The data from the tracking device placed him moving at 120 mph on a straight course. I overlaid the area map and found an unmarked patch lying directly in the path of the blinking marker which was Duo. "What's this?"

"A private airfield, but not a shuttle launch. We did a survey of the area."

"How long ago was that? More than six months, a year?" I asked.

Rashid stared at the blinking light, his anguished expression telling me the bad news. "I overlooked this possibility."

"We can't leave without Duo!" Winner cried out.

I shook my head. "It's too late. If he's taken aboard a plane, Preventer's will follow and intercept it after it lands. If a concealed shuttle launch port is there instead, then we are best equipped to follow. In any case, chasing him now is pointless. Plane orshuttle, we could never reach him in time."

"Can you see where he is from his collar's data capture?" Zechs asked.

"This is what I get. Blank screen. I'm guessing his is either lying on the camera or it is covered up. There is no sound either. I can't explain that. Diagnostics could tell us if it is damaged."

One of the corps members bowed to Rashid and interrupted. "We must complete launch procedures while the inner launch chamber's doors are still locked."

Rashid looked to Winner for instructions. "You are being pursued. Do not doubt that."

"Duo's not here anyway. Let's go," Winner said.

Barton gestured for us to buckle in for take off then asked me, "How about when he was caught? Back up and look at what's there, maybe get a look at the kidnaper?"

"I can't," I growled. "There's no data storage on this, but Une's people have it." Before I could get too excited, the laptop's network shut off for the unfortunately-timed launch blackout period. "Damn!"

Zechs turned his head toward Winner. "How are the injured Maguanacs?"

"Stabilized in the lower compartment. Ubaid is in serious condition with a bullet to the abdominal area. Thank you for asking."

When we reached orbital status, I immediately resumed my work, signaling the data processor at Preventer's headquarters for the information required. "Got in. Here are some of the faces of buyers. Good close up, Duo. Okay, looks like he's leaving—"

"Stop bouncing around," Chang muttered to the non-existent Duo as the images flashed about.

"Stop!" Winner cried out. "That's…that's…!"

"That's Raul," Barton growled. "How did he get past us?"

"How did he get in?!" Winner asked. He was practically sobbing, but marshaled himself a moment later. "We'll have to check all of our recordings and see if one of us caught him entering the room. Maybe he was in disguise?" Winner offered by way of explanation.

Rashid asked for instructions so the pilot could monitor the trace signal, and I left the laptop in Chang's hands. The next few hours were consumed by anxiety as we continued to follow the signal from Duo's collar through space.

"Could his camera be damaged?" Zechs asked. "It still shows nothing."

"No, the diagnostics show no malfunction, although the sound signal is not transmitting due to a broken-line malfunction of the equipment." I sat back and rubbed my stiffening neck. "My guess is that the strike that took him down damaged the collar."

"It must have been quite a blow," Chang muttered. He knew how tough the standards were for the collars.

Winner moved between the cockpit area and us, reporting on our progress. He looked like he was heading for a nervous breakdown. Trowa must have thought so too, because he finally pushed Winner into a seat and sat on him to keep him still. Quatre closed his eyes and breathed deeply a few times before giving us the latest update.

"Although we launched first," Quatre said. "their shuttle locked into a faster orbit and has a considerable lead on us. It looks like they are heading for Earth, but until they enter orbit we can't guess from their current trajectory where they intend to land."

With work to keep my mind engaged, my imagination was kept at bay. In my weaker moments I could see Duo's face, eyes closed, possibly injured. I cursed myself for not being at his side the moment Dierk was contained. Why hadn't I? I had trusted the Maguanacs to guard his safety. As much as I wanted to place the blame, with two men down in the act of protecting Duo, I couldn't ask for more from them. _Raul._ I vowed to kill him with my bare hands.

Then we lost the feed entirely. The collar had been compromised and dropped the connection. I stifled my anguish, falling back on my war-trained ability to partition off and block my emotional state, enabling my reasoning centers to operate at full capability. Around me I could hear the gasps, the shock, the cries, and despair.

"We have an incoming message," I intoned, carefully keeping my tone flat. "Ah. Expecting report on decoded data and data collected from Royal art files."

Again, the uproar of "what good will that do for us now?" and "who cares?" threatened to crack my barriers, but did not. I continued the search for Duo Maxwell in complete control of my faculties.

"Based on the last trajectory," Rashid told me when asked, "These are the highest probability landing locations."

"Zechs, inform Preventers agents to begin there."

"But Heero!" Winner cried out, outraged. "We should do that!"

"Rashid," I said, ignoring Winner as best I could. "Load the lowest probability locations. We will begin with those. Chang—" Chang's eyes moved imperceptivity. "Continue to monitor this. Should the collar reactivate, this will blink."

He took the laptop without a word. In the meantime, Zechs unpacked his computer and Maxwell's laptop. Barton and Winner worked with Rashid's data communications man to establish an elaborate search and tracking system linked to the flight plan. Zechs also contacted Commander Une and remained in hushed conversation for several minutes.

"Agents are on the scene at several of those landing sites already," Zechs reported. "All shuttle landings are being monitored. If Duo is on a shuttle and it lands, we will know about it."

"That and several hundred more," Barton put in.

"Yes, that's true. There are agencies all over the planet. Resources are being diverted to every bay site. Agents are giving this top priority."

"We'll find him then, and soon," Winner declared.

(o)

Soon it was not. Hours turned into days, and days added up to a week. We were living at the Preventer's headquarters 24/7. I would not return to our house, not without Duo. I think the others just wanted to be sure I was not alone and stayed in the dormitories too. They needn't have bothered. I hardly noticed.

We had determined that Duo must have been transferred from the shuttle to another airship while in orbit. He was not on board any shuttle landing at anytime anywhere. Preventer's agents were assigned to examining orbital tracking scans for clues. Winner reminded me every hour that he felt Duo was "alive." This, I knew, was not blather to ease my feelings. Coming from him it was fact.

Chang had taken Barton's place at my desk to monitor the current processes I was running. He called Doctor Po twelve times a day. Had I not been so wrapped up in my own universe of heartache, I might have paid attention to his emotional metaphorphosis. Sally visited the office once or twice, maybe hourly, but I was mute and a bore, easily ignored. She tried to get more out of me than "Hn," but I was transfixed by the loss of Duo. Every day, every hour of his absence was bad. No one could say otherwise because it was true.

It was midnight, or after. Everyone else had slipped off to the dormitory to sleep. I was stiff and considering taking my partner's advice and get some rest.

"Go on," he urged me again.

As I stood, Chang lurched from his chair. "Fuck! YUY! We are getting feed from Duo's collar!"

"Where is he?"

"Not the tracer. Data stream. Files. Lots."

I cut into the transmission as it was being stored to numerous external drives. "Formulas."

"What are you doing now?" Chang asked as I typed furiously.

"Getting a lock on where the data is streaming from."

He picked up his phone and started punching numbers. "Barton get Winner and come up here. Duo's sending us data."

Zechs must have been standing right outside the dormitories, because he was in attendance as well when the other two thundered into the office. While Chang explained what had happened, Zechs and Barton scanned the downloaded information.

"Those look like the formulas Une sent Chang in that message," Barton pointed out. "Not exactly, but I recognize this structure that looks like a circus ring."

Zechs started shouting into his cell phone to some poor underpaid rookie. "Then get on it now! Don't just ignore data from the collars because we're not wearing ours! Idiots!" he bellowed.

"New Germany," I said. "I'll narrow the location down in a minute."

"I'll bet it's Gunter's pharmaceutical company. Duo could be held up there!" Winner said. He was on his cell phone instantly, contacting his devoted crew of men as he stepped out the door to converse.

When he returned, he told us, "The Winner private jet is being refueled. It will be ready when we get to the hanger, guaranteed. Our ride awaits us momentarily." He added a small smile to apologize for the silly-sounding speech. He was tired but buoyed with hope.

There was no time to pack. We took the clothes on our back and emptied the weapons cache available to us at the agency. Zechs accompanied us, mostly as a go-between to Une, saving us the distraction. I could admire the man and, generally, approve of how he had conducted the mission and himself. When we found Duo, I might even consider calling him by his new name. Duo first. The final outcome was the determining factor for what I'd call the ex-OZ man in the future.

Winner and his loyal corps. I would be indebted to them for life after this. I brooded throughout the flight to New Germany; well, until the lack of sleep caught up on me. When I awoke, groggy, but rested, it was another day.

Barton's face was leaning close to mine. "Get over here. You'll want to hear this."

"We have audio!" Chang shouted excitedly. He cranked up the volume so we could all listen. "The collar's transmitting this!"

_"….as 'the love that dare not speak its name.' Why is that do you think? We are strong, virile men, why should we be afraid to declare our intentions, show our affection freely and openly? Why do we hide?"_

**_"I don't hide any longer."_**

_"Of course you do. You're hiding now, aren't you?"_

**_"But not from my sexuality. Give me the keys and I'll come out."_**

"That's **Duo**!"

"He sounds strange."

"Who is he talking to?"

"Gunter," Barton said. "I'd know that voice anywhere. Duo sounds like he did when he was drugged that time."

"Shhhh…"

_"**I don't know you. I don't know anything except you like to party, and you seem to love this.**_

_"What is it?" _

**_"Don't stop, please."_**

"I can hardly hear what's being said. Turn it up."

"I don't want to hear this."

"Shhh!"

_"What is it?" _

_"**Nothing... I just..."**_

_"Go on. Tell me."_

**"_I love...I love the feel of you. It's so good. I don't want it to stop."_**

My stomached churned. Duo had to know I'd be listening. Why this? It sounded like Gunter was kissing him, and more. I tried not to imagine what else he was touching or their state of undress.

"_Scythe, just a minute. I have to take a phone call, understand? I will be right back." _

**"**_**What?"** _

"_Don't move. I won't be long."_

No one would look me in the eye, which I was grateful for. I didn't know what they'd see there. We waited through about twenty minutes of silence.

"Come on, Duo. Talk to us," Winner said. "Aren't you alone? Say something."

But he didn't.

"_Scythe? Are you still awake?"_

**"_Yes."_**

"_Hello."_

**"**_**You're late."** _

"_Sorry. It took longer than expected. Didn't know it mattered to you." _

**"**_**Of course it does. I love you, 'Ro."** _

"'RO? That's you, Heero! He said that thinking of you. Duo must be trying to communicate." Winner smiled.

_"Row? That's the third time you've called me that. It's a strange nickname. I guess I like it. Anyway, Scythe, about what you said, that's okay for you. I understand, but I don't love you. Just as long as you understand that, we can keep doing this. Do you want to get naked? Want to fuck? Or, do you want dinner first?"_

**_ "Dinner."_**

_ "Whatever you want. Listen, I've got to shower."_

**_"Then do."_**

_ "We'll go out."_

_"**Okay."** _

_"What's this doing here?" _

The feed was interrupted by crackling and scratching sounds of the transmitter scraping against material.

_"I'll dispose of this for you. No reason for you to be reminded of the past. The past is no more."_

We could hear the sound of footsteps on linoleum, a loud slam, and then silence.

"That's it for the collar," Barton said with a heavy sigh.

"The location of the device has been pinpointed to this stand of buildings." I glanced over at Winner and smiled. "As you surmised, it's the pharmaceutical manufacturing complex."

Zechs fell into the front passenger seat beside Rashid, cell phone in hand. "We don't know which building. The transmission stopped. It doesn't matter. They are moving, going out, but we don't know where. Yes, I've got the local commander on the other line; just make it clear that they are to stay out of sight until we… Yes, we give the orders to move or not."

I wasn't paying attention after that. As long as we had backup and that backup took orders from us, I was satisfied.

"The building is occupied, which means we must move with care and not risk hurting civilians." It was Zechs job to tell us, but totally unnecessary.

"Gunter implied that they were going out," Chang said. "Notify the local constabulary to inform us of any stolen or speeding vehicles fanning out from the building."

"There are agents watching the streets," Zechs reported.

"They'd be better off watching the alleys," Barton put in. "If Maxwell escapes, he'll go for shelter there."

Zechs cell buzzed. "Yes, I know who that is. Where? How was he identified? His passport? How about fingerprints? Get on it then! Have you interviewed the pilots? I see. Keep us informed, thank you." He sighed first. "They found Raul. Dead and packed in carton shoved into a tool storage compartment on a shuttle in New Italy. More to come."

"Who wants to bet he tried to double cross Gunter?" Trowa asked.

"Good riddance to bad rubbish. Ah… that's a quote from Lewis Carroll," Winner said. "He's okay, Heero. He is," he added with assurance.

"Where are you Maxwell?" Chang asked wistfully.

"If I were Duo, and could get away, where would I go?" Zechs mused.

Winner suggested, "Duo might seek shelter in a church."

"_Scythe_ would show up at a club," I said. "And he's _Scythe _now."

"Um, this may or may not be related, but," Barton cleared his throat, "that data Quatre and Duo collected from Royal was analyzed and the results sent to us. I looked over some of it, and funny now that this body's been recovered, ah, but that dude you saw at Royal, Quatre, wasn't Raul Frolich. They found the fingerprints of Raphael Medici on a CD, one Duo had found in the art-mart and marked as the one he'd seen taken from Gunter's office."

"But that's the _same_ man," Quatre said.

"Apparently not."

"But I found his change of name documents!" he insisted.

"Faking ID's hides identities," Trowa said. "How many of us were born with the names we're now using?"

"Just Winner and me," Chang said.

"But why travel with two names?" Quatre asked, perplexed.

"Maybe so he can appear to be in two places at once," Trowa said. "Like magic."

End, It's Back to Work, Chapter Twenty-Two


	30. It’s Back to Work Chapter 23

**DEFYING GRAVITY**

Part Two: It's Back to Work

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Gundam Wing or its characters, nor do I make any monetary profit off this story.  
Warnings: 1x2x1, 3x4x3, AU, yaoi, some language, drug abuse, nonconsensual sexual activity  
--Kaeru Shisho 7/2/2007 -- This is a long chapter and all in Duo's POV.

* * *

I swear, when I started for the door I was never so glad to see Amid's ugly mug. I'd had the slimiest hands pinching my butt, the nastiest breath in my face, but I'd gotten a close-up of every one of those fuckers. Hope they die in hell, selling poor street kids like cattle to be drugged and trained for some madman's army. Amid and his bud acted like a wall, cutting off those hands as I transferred all the loot and evidence, and provided a path for my escape. The gig was just about over, and I was relieved. Time to get the hell back home. 

As we passed through a corridor, I caught sight of a face I couldn't place here in Morocco. The side passage was dark and the face shadowed. I heard a scuffle, like a boot sliding on the floor. And then a noise, a sharp pain, and—oh, yeah, it was Raul! My memory kicked in for a moment. Then blackness. Ah, a moment too late. I guess Raul grabbed my limp body and took off.

The next blurred memories consisted of being moved and a muted voice. I had lost all sense of time. I was thirsty. I couldn't see. I needed to sleep. I fought the sensation of falling and lost.

I woke up later and knew I'd been out of it for some time. I know I woke up, because I had clear recollections of waking and drinking, hearing a familiar voice and seeing moving patterns of light. I always felt as if I was out of touch with the real world and that my mind knew this but couldn't get clear of the fantasy. I wondered if I had finally lost it and gone insane, but I couldn't fathom why I would. I knew there was another world out there, one that I had an active role in, but couldn't enter.

The fog cleared in short bursts at first. My memory remained impaired, and I was always thirsty, both of which angered me. From the chemical taste in my mouth, I figured Gunter was keeping me drugged. I was under cover and the operation parameters had changed, that I seemed certain of, but I couldn't keep my focus or retain a firm picture of the substantial world. It was maddening.

"Come on _Scythe_, let me in," the voice said quietly. "Let me be what you need."

"Don't 'need' anything, 'cept water," I said, trying to ignore the way his hands were moving around my waist.

Gunter chuckled. I had established his name right off. "Oh yes, I know exactly what you need, _Scythe._"

"I _said_ water." I turned to face him.

"You need to let it all go and just be," he said. "Forget about all of this shit that's pissing you off and just have a little fun."

I shook my head. I couldn't recall being particularly "pissed off," but if he was involved I wasn't surprised either. "I don't like your idea of fun."

He took me by the hand and led me over to the desk. I followed, interested in what he was going to show me, and pissed off— okay, now I was-- because I was feeling something...something like tension...sexual tension. I didn't want to feel anything for him. I hated him with a passion, his touch sickened me.

But then it didn't; in fact, his firm hand on my waist had almost soothed me. He opened the drawer and grabbed a small black case that was about the size of a long jewelry box. He handed it to me and I stared at it for a moment and looked up at him.

"What's this? Doesn't look like a water bottle."

"More fun," he said, watching me intently.

I opened the case and inside was a number of smaller compartments separating different types of pills. He pointed to the first compartment.

"Freedom, fun, escape—pretty nice to get all that from a pill."

I shook my head. "No way am I doing that again. You nearly killed me the first time."

I was unaware that this scenario had played out repeatedly for several days. I was not so loaded on drugs that I was unaware of what normal feel like or that I wasn't, but my memory was shot.

He grinned. "You're doing just fine now. I've fixed it. It's cleaner and the dosage is much smaller. Just one and it'll take the pain away."

"I don't have any pain to take away," I lied. The prospect of a short time of no pain sounded like a wonderful thing. I had plenty of pain by now, all mental, but admitting my weakness to Gunter wasn't something I wanted to do. At least I had dredged up that much strength of will. "I'm going for water."

"Liar," he said quickly. "I can see how your eyes brightened at that thought. Come on, _Scythe_, you've got nothing to lose and everything to gain. No one to tell you no and no one to think you're less because of it. You deserve to be able to just let go."

God, the man could sell sand to L4 Arabs or someplace else that had lots of sand that was just on the fringe of my thoughts, teasingly just out of reach. That hurt. I looked down at the case in my hands and then back up at Gunter. "How much cleaner?"

"You won't even feel it as it takes effect. Its release is gradual, not like the veil." He smiled. "Come on. you know I won't let anything happen to you, not while _Wind _still has my boys hostage. You wouldn't know where, would you?"

"Who?" I asked, my mind and face a complete blank

_Wind. _The name sent my head spinning to catch up with the shattered memories. My heart was suddenly racing; of course, it was probably time for my next dose and my body's craving was peaking for me. I thought I recognized where I was—Gunter's house. In that same moment of clarity, I remembered that _Wind_ was Mill and he and I were living across the street deep undercover. This was part of our mission. I had the perfect opportunity to make headway in the case. I knew that the cameras were there. They were all over the house. I knew that whatever information I could get from him, whatever I could get him to talk about, could all be used as evidence.

I also knew that if he thought me to be high, he'd be more willing to talk and be free himself. But at the same time, while thinking of the advantages for the case, I knew that it didn't really matter what happened to me. If I took it and keeled over, then I was an overdose by a dealer on tape. With me being an agent, the agency would bust him if I passed on, regardless of what other crimes they wanted to catch him doing. Either way, he'd be caught, but that hurt, too.

I took a deep breath and was about to say yes when he slid his hand up my chest. I swallowed hard at the feelings he was evoking from me, and I hadn't even had the damned drug yet. I sighed heavily and caught his hand, holding it still, closing my eyes.

"Forget what I said. Come on, _Scythe_, what have you got to lose?" he whispered.

Nothing. I knew I had nothing. Mill was not my lover, although, I was certain I had once had one. I had this terrible pain of loss inside. Everything I'd ever cared about had been taken from me, and there was nothing more than finishing the case and going home. _Home, what was that?_ Back to my shitty dormitory room and my shitty job. _Wasn't there more?_ I set the case on the desk and took a step forward.

"How long?"

"Ten, fifteen minutes tops, and then it lasts several hours."

I nodded slowly and pushed back both my hatred for him and my nervousness with what was about to happen and took another step toward him. I had to admit that my hatred was taking a back burner to whatever pain I was feeling right now. I didn't know what this was, but it was certainly different.

"I've got nothing to lose," I whispered as I leaned in and kissed him.

I don't know how long the kiss lasted, but when he pulled away, I was actually breathless. He smiled at me and reached for the case, opening the first compartment. He took out one pill, examined it and placed it on my tongue. It immediately began to dissolve and the bitter taste was much milder this time, barely noticeable.

Not noticeable at all. "Nothing" manifested in my mind, as in, the big void. No pain, no sense of loss, limited "ego," fading "super ego," but plenty of "id." My libido was fully active. My "ego" was having difficulty balancing my primitive drives, morals, and reality, which removed my concern for my personal safety. My poor "super ego," my conscience and internal moral judge, was squashed.

_I could kill him and escape_. I thought that over and over, but then who'd complete the mission? Who would nail his ass? Some poor schmuck agent would have to go through this again? No way. I was a goner, but I'd find a way to get the goods on Gunter first. No one would have to have to come back because I'd failed to come through.

He laughed and picked up the small black case and raised it to me as if in a toast. "Just getting started."

A minute may have passed, or five; I lost the memory of that segment of my life. Next tick of the clock and I was still sitting on the edge of Gunter's desk, now holding the small black case of pills. There were several different sizes and colors and I recognized none of them. I opened the second compartment and took out a small jade-colored pill, holding it up for inspection.

"What's this?"

"Hey, hey, hey," he took the pill out of my hand and put it back into the case. "The rest of those you aren't ready for."

I looked up at him and smiled. "Well, at least tell me what I'm missing."

"Believe me, you're not missing anything," Gunter said, dismissing my questioning.

I looked back to the case and shook my head. "Since when do you know what I'm ready for?" I asked.

It was a two-sided question and I knew it. I thought he'd take the sexual route, but he surprised me. That should have been a clue that I was getting a glimpse of the other side of the man, the professional one.

"I didn't mean you personally. Physically your body needs to work its way up to these in small doses. If I were to give you one of the other pills, you would hate me forever." He took the case from me and pointed to the seventh compartment. "That one is what you got from me that night at the club. I didn't take into consideration that you were essentially a virgin."

"So, you're saying that what I have tonight is the lowest dose of the one from that night?" I gave him a lop-sided grin. "Oh, and don't worry. I'm going to hate you forever anyway."

He stood and placed the case on the desk and leaned in as if to kiss me. He instead let his hand linger on the inside of my thigh, as he looked me in the eyes. "That's what I'm saying." His hand trailed a little further up and his fingertips brushed my crotch through the denim of my jeans.

The look on his face was entirely too smug, and I didn't like it at all. There was nothing more that I'd like to do than to be able to wipe that look off of his face and replace it with another. As I walked down the hall leading to the kitchen, everything in sight blurred and multiplied. I reached out quickly to my side, finding the wall, and stumbling to it. Leaning my head back and closing my eyes, I stood with my back to the wall, waiting to see if this would pass.

Time didn't seem to have any meaning at that point; I didn't have a clue as to how long I'd been standing there with the wall holding me up. Footsteps approached from down the hall, I think in the direction I'd just come from, I couldn't be sure. I refused to open my eyes to look to see who it was but I knew that whoever it was, was wearing dress shoes of some sort. The slight clicking noise on the marbled floor was unmistakable. As the footsteps came closer I could smell Gunter's light cologne and I could hear and recognize his gait. The man didn't know how to walk simply putting one foot in front of the other. No, the man strutted wherever he went. It wasn't effeminate in any way, but the man wanted people to think he was the shit.

His hand was on my butt, stroking, before he really ever stopped in front of me. "Hmm, that's always a nice look."

It was then, I realized, that my pants were open. I groaned as he reached inside my pants, tugged on me, and squeezed. Every damned nerve in my body felt like it was running on some kind of electric current. One of Gunter's hands caressed my face along my cheek.

"Just breathe and don't try to fight it."

I sighed heavily. "I thought you said I wouldn't even notice this shit."

He laughed softly. "Yeah well, I never expected such a tough guy to be so sensitive. But don't worry; you'll be okay in just another minute or so. I won't let anything happen to you."

I opened my eyes and tried to force things to look normal again. I squinted and blinked a few times and Gunter's hand that had been on my cheek swept gently across my brow. It was oddly comforting.

"That's right, just relax," he whispered.

And for a few minutes I did relax, until I realized that I was supporting myself against the wall with Gunter stroking my cock and my brow, comforting me. There were so many things wrong with the way I felt at this point. The main thing that lingered in my mind was that this was just—wrong. I forced my eyes to focus, pushed his hands away from me, and fought to stuff myself back into my jeans.

"I'm fine," I grumbled.

I actually had to bite my lip in order to stifle the whimper that was brought forth by the constriction in my jeans. Things were getting a little clearer now as I pushed myself away from the wall. It did piss me off that Gunter's words and his touch had comforted me. The only excuse I could think of was that is was because of the drugs; it had to be them giving me these dumb-ass feelings. I sighed and shook my head as if trying to clear it all away.

This was absolutely insane. There was no way whatsoever that I could be even minimally attracted to this, this deviant. My dick was defiantly saying yes, but my head was screaming no. My poor deflated egos were trying to reassert themselves. I was only doing this for the job; taking one for the team. That was all that counted, all that mattered, all that was important. I had nothing left to lose anyway by going the extra mile.

What I really needed, other than him finishing me off, was for him to start talking. He looked up at me and smiled absently as I neared his desk. I found bottles of water down on the edge of the desk and walked around the back of his chair. On the screen of the computer was some sort of code. Code that was similar if not exactly like the code I'd come across on the CD Raul had copied or no there was other stuff, too. Pictures.

My hands slid across his shoulders and then down his chest. "What're you doing?" I asked.

"I'll be done in just a minute, I promise," he said as he touched my hand.

I leaned against the back of his chair with one of my hands on his chest, while the other slid just inside his shirt. He grabbed his pen and quickly began drawing some sort of diagram. A few minutes later he was entering what I guessed were his 'results' into his computer. The screen beeped and flashed, drawing my attention to it.

When I saw the diagram on the screen this time, it was so very clear to me what it all was and what it all meant. Formulas. These were drug formulas and it seemed he had his own little coding system in place. It never occurred to me that Gunter himself would have the knowledge to do all of this. There had been no educational background in his file, so we'd made a few assumptions, or at least the agency had. I clenched my jaw tightly to not make any verbal indications of how thrilled I was with this new piece of the puzzle. About that time, he stood, forcing my hands from him. I continued leaning on the chair, but turned slightly to watch what he was doing. This was data I would have to get to Mill, and I knew how to do it. I'd only have to wait until I was alone. Maybe late that night.

(o)

A few days before that memory, Gunter had removed my collar with heavy-duty pipe cutters. He had nearly strangled me in the process and had left red welts on my neck afterwards. Afterwards, he had tried to hide the collar. He didn't want me "wearing _Wind_'s tokens any more," now that I had become his. Well, clever thief that I was, I got it back. He wasn't as clever as he thought, or thought I was less _compos mentis_ than I was. I got it back and hid it well from him. I was very clever in spite of my drugged mental condition, even though for the life of me I can't remember how I pulled it off.

I do recall that Gunter looked upon the collar as simply a piece of garish jewelry. He was not techno savvy, but then I knew that since he hadn't discovered the surveillance cameras and bugs I'd placed around the house. I wondered about the viewing or listening devices I'd installed and who was watching the monitors. I hadn't seen any devices in the two rooms I had freedom roam. It was as if this wasn't the same house, even though I knew it must be, even if my access was limited to this office and a bedroom. I wondered about the kitchen, the living room, and the other boys who were captives. I was a captive, now that I thought about it. My thinking was circuitous, random, and often illogical, but I kept trying to cut through the perpetual fog that plagued my mind.

I had few activities with which to occupy my limited waking time. I was drugged out of my mind at times and clear-headed others. One coherent afternoon, I tinkered with the collar seeing if any part of it was operational. I was awed by its complexity and elegance. Whoever designed it was a genius I wanted to meet. In the back of my mind I thought I knew who it was, but was unable to hold onto that part of my memory.

I discovered an intact USB port, disguised under a flip-up stud; a cracked micro-camera casing with fused innards; several possible device units of indeterminable use near the "cut" point, which were mashed to smithereens; and a micro-microphone. The microphone unit was impossibly small, but I could see a damaged spot in the wiring I thought I could fix. I rummaged through the one unlocked desk drawer for matches and was rewarded with a lighter.

My hair was unbraided, which meant the few tools I'd once kept hidden in the tangles were gone. I improvised with a wire paper clip and the guts to a mechanical pencil enough to separate the wire and melt the protective plastic casing over the exposed metal so it would no longer make contact with the surrounding ones. It was all I could do at the time with the tools at hand. Before I could test it, I heard Gunter's key in the lock. I hid away the collar, replaced the lighter and the pencil, wrapped the paper clip around my finger, ring-like, and I leaned back. As the door opened, my eyes closed, biding my time.

(o)

By midnight of the day I'd seen the data files on Gunter's computer, the drugs had worn off, mostly, and I was alone. I remembered the chemical data Gunter had been studying on the and knew I had to collect it. I dug the collar out of hiding and attached the collar to the USB port of his computer and began downloading all the files Gunter had accessed that day. I was pleased the collar hadn't been ruined when it had been cut off. The homing tracer was probably what had been crushed by the cutters, because no one had come for me. I knew someone would come for me, sometime. I wasn't just left to die here alone, I hoped. Mill would have come for me, wouldn't he have? He wasn't just leaving me here. Maybe he was. Maybe this was the intention from the start. I was so embedded-UC I wasn't coming out. I hoped he received the data stream and appreciated what it took me to get it to him.

It was another day, the next, although, it could have been the next year-- since my inner clock was shot to hell-- and Mill, no, _Wind_, no, not him either; it was Alric Gunter talking to me. He raised an eyebrow in question, but when I didn't answer him he chose to ask a different question.

"Oscar Wilde once referred to homosexuality as 'the love that dare not speak its name.' Why is that do you think? We are strong, virile men, why should we be afraid to declare our intentions, show our affection freely and openly? Why do we hide?"

"I don't hide any longer," I said.

"Of course you do. You're hiding now, aren't you?"

"But not from my sexuality." I lifted a lucid eye to meet and hold his. "Give me the keys and I'll come out."

He didn't. I think something in my expression frightened him, although that wasn't why he didn't give me the keys to the house. I think my body was concocting its own anti-serum to the drugs. I swallowed most of that box he'd last shown me, and I wasn't any more affected than the first time. For a moment I think some past persona of mine shown through, one I called "_Shinigami_." I wasn't sure, but that would explain his reaction.

"I don't know you," he said. "I don't know anything except you like to party, and you seem to love this."

I winced as he leaned into me, slipped another pill past my lips, and pressed his groin into my belly.

"What is it?" he whispered, stopping his suggestive movements and lifting my chin in order to meet my eyes.

I felt the drug plow into my consciousness like a fleet of Leos. I had nothing to combat the relentless surge. I could only give in, again. My libido flared.

"Don't stop," I gasped. "Please."

He started grinding into me again, and I moaned.

"What is it?" he whispered. His voice tightened. He was concerned.

"Nothing... I just..."

"Go on. Tell me."

"I love..." I couldn't say it. "I love the feel of you. It's so good. I don't want it to stop."

He pulled me closer into his arms and kissed my neck, stroking deeply into me. I moaned softly. He kissed me long and hard.

_I love you_, I thought. But I didn't say it aloud. If I told him, he'd be gone. Everyone I loved left me, whether they loved me in return or not. Someone loved me, but it was not Gunter. He didn't love me, but it was getting harder for me not to _say_ it. Every time he kissed or touched me, I ached to say it. I wanted those touches. I wanted to be loved. The only time I wasn't in danger was when I wasn't with him, and that was worse.

When I finally said it, I wasn't meaning to.

"_Scythe_, just a minute. I have to take a phone call, understand? I will be right back."

"What?" I muttered incoherently.

He passed me a water bottle and kissed my mouth. "Don't move. I won't be long."

I was in the bedroom, waiting for him. I thought about the collar and wondered if I'd fixed the microphone. I thought about saying something, but then I was so damned thirsty my throat hurt. Next thing I knew, I was drinking water and feeling like shit. I was sick of holding it in, and I knew he didn't want me like I wanted him, which was almost worse. I heard his footsteps at the door, the key in the lock, the door open.

"_Scythe?_ Are you still awake?"

"Yes." In more ways than one. My inner _Shinigami _was breaking through the drug-induced haze blocking off my brain functions.

He stood in the doorway to the bedroom arms crossed. "Hello."

"You're late," I said.

"Sorry. It took longer than expected. Didn't know it mattered to you." He said it in a joking manner, as if he knew I couldn't feel the passing of time with any accuracy.

"Of course it does. I love you, 'Ro."

I didn't mean to tell him. I'd been thinking it so much; it just seemed natural to think it verbally. So I told _him_, the one I loved, although he was gone. Where had he gone? Why, like everyone else had he left me, too? Maybe he would come if I called him?

Gunter was very quiet for a long time before saying, "Row? That's the third time you've called me that this week. It's a strange nickname. I guess I like it. Anyway, _Scythe_, about what you said, that's okay for you. I understand, but I don't love you."

He said it. Casually. Like it was no big deal. My heart, he simply cut it out, wrenched it from my chest, and dropped it on the floor.

"Just as long as you understand that, we can keep doing this. Do you want to get naked? Want to fuck? Or, do you want dinner first?"

Oh, yeah. Just beat that heart with a crow bar till it stops pumping.

Like a discarded Valentine.

No, it wasn't like that at all. This was not my lover, not _him_. I didn't care about this man. Another part of my brain cleared. My libido shrank into a tiny, hard, clot.

"Dinner," I said.

Gunter sighed. "Whatever you want. Listen, I've got to shower."

"Then do."

Another sigh. "We'll go out."

"Okay," I said, maintaining my detached cool.

Inside, I was thrumming with excitement. Out meant freedom. I had the formulas, his voice recorded as the man holding me hostage, plenty of evidence. If I had a chance to high-tail it, it was now. Running, hiding. I could do that, but I sure wished I hadn't swallowed that last pill. I could use more lucidity.

"What's this doing here?" Gunter asked with rising ire. He snatched up the collar, which had been resting on my pillow. God, I hoped it had been transmitting. "I'll dispose of this for you. No reason for you to be reminded of the past. The past is no more."

I was disappointed to discover that "out" meant out of the room and into the next. Still, I hadn't been out of the same two rooms since I'd been locked up. It wasn't the house. It wasn't a house at all. It was a suite of rooms in a large building, with offices, closed, empty, lights out for the night, or weekend.

"Where are we going?"

"This is where I work. There is a commissary on the floor below."

"Nobody around. Big place for no employees."

I lowered my head and sneaked peeks of my surroundings from beneath my bangs. Guards stationed at blind intersections. Large quantity of air vents, to be expected if this manufactured drugs. Must vent chemical exhaust. Probably unsafe place to spend time crawling around and breathing toxic fumes, though. Stairwell entries unguarded.

"They are not on this floor and the commissary is closed, but not to me."

Now was the time to make my move. We were in sight of too many guards, armed ones. I didn't feel particularly strong or quick enough to avoid getting seriously injured, should I just up and run. Shitty drugs. The cafeteria would have cooks, knives, and exit possibilities.

"Is there a men's room around here?" I asked. They had stopped just inside the cafeteria.

Gunter sighed. "There was in my room. Why didn't you go earlier?"

"You were taking a shower then it was time to go. Come on, all I've had is about ten bottles of water. I gotta piss."

Naturally, he followed me in. I didn't have to fake a thing. I even washed my hands. I also palmed a glob of liquid soap he didn't notice. It was a challenge to one-hand a tray full of food and not look too obvious.

"Hey, this stew's great. I can cook ya know and I say this is really special. I'd like to know what's in this that makes it so good. What so you think it is? Nutmeg? Chili?"

Gunter raised a hand to fend off my question assault. "Why don't you ask?"

"It's okay with you?"

"Yes, the kitchen is that way. I'll get to eat in peace," Gunter said. He amused himself.

The kitchen food service area was visible behind glass. He probably felt he could safely keep an eye on me, besides, there was no where to run. He wouldn't think there were exits. I surmised that Gunter knew as much about commercial kitchens as high tech devices. Where there were ovens and open barbeque burners, there were vents, ones my sized and less dangerous than ones with chemical scrubbers. In a building this large and producing compounds which could contaminate food, my guess was the pantry had its own cargo elevator.

In any case, I could imagine my exits out the ying-yang, but they wouldn't just materialize on their own. I had to make them real. So, I chatted up the cook and begged for a tour of his kitchen, which he was happy to give.

"Hey, Alric! Can I get a little tour of the kitchen? I never gotta work in a place as cool as this. I mean, it's huge and the equipment—"

"Yes, _Scythe_, that's a good idea. Perhaps you'd like to show me how grateful you are later, in private?"

"Sure!" _Over your dead body!_

The tour started with the pizza ovens and stove tops. We were cooking with gas, yes. I ripped off a plastic bag and scraped the soap off my hand, preserving most of it in the bag, twisting it closed and stuffing it in a pocket. I've had to fit through some pretty tight spots in the past where a bit of slippery goop would have come in handy to ease the way. I hadn't expected this tour so I had used the bathroom opportunity to collect what I could, which was soap. Now, after one look up at the vents rimed with accumulated grease, I figured I probably wouldn't need the soap. The first vents I located were high and hard to reach, but coated with many years accumulation of grease I'd slip in okay—if I could climb up that high. Over at the far side I noted other vents with bakers racks nearby, which I might be able to turn into a ladder substitute. I'd need a diversion, so as we moved on, I reached behind my back and cranked up the burner under the oil.

"What's back here?" I asked with youthful curiosity.

"The pantry, cold locker, walk-in refrigerator, and the lift." Chef Pierre hesitated a moment then asked, "You want to see that?"

"Yeah," I said, grinning. "Maybe it's filled with cold, hard, cash!" I got Pierre all loosened up over that one. Nothing like having a back load of stock jokes to pull out when I needed one. "You know what they call a bevy of blondes in the freezer? Frosted Flakes!"

I spotted the lift to our right, but I made a point of looking more interested in the boxes of potatoes. That was a challenge, because I now saw that elevator as my deliverance from hell. I smelled smoke.

"That's a shitload of 'taters. How many pounds of potatoes you go through a week?"

I made a point of sniffing the air. "Um, you leave something on the fire in there? I smell something burning."

Pierre excused himself and I had the moment I'd been hoping for. I scampered to the lift, but it required a key to operate. Okay, I could be inventive. I uncoiled my wire ring and shorted out the lock on the first try. The door opened, I hopped in, punched the"1R" button, thinking street level, rear exit to a loading area would suit my needs, and let'er rip.

The elevator door opened and I was out with my foot in the door to keep it open. I leaned out and could just reach a discarded crate, hauled it over, and jammed it in the opening to hold the elevator on this floor. Wouldn't do to have them coming after me that way.

It was night. This could only make it easier for me to get away, but then a fist like a bludgeon plowed into my shoulder, knocking me off my feet.

"You think he cares about you, huh? I heard you. I heard what you said. You love him. Well, he don't love you, you fucking little bastard. You're just his lab rat."

"Oh yeah," I said, by voice raspy as I caught my breath, "that's so fucking good." I looked directly at Raul as I regained my footing, making sure he was meeting my eyes when I said my next words. "He ever suck your cock so beautifully?"

Oh yeah, it was jealousy all right. Raw jealousy and anger flashed through Raul's eyes.

"You son of a bitch," he spit out and was suddenly coming at me again.

I leaned away just in time to avoid Raul's knee to the side of my head. Luckily, with Raul's size and the way in which he lunged, I had the advantage. Catching him by the collar of his shirt and his upper thigh, I launched him up over me, using his momentum and my strength to give him his own downfall. I didn't notice him make a grab at my throat on the way over, but I felt the chain with my cross cut across my windpipe before it snapped. He landed flat on his back on the cement landing. As hard as he hit, I knew it had at least knocked the breath out of him.

Watching him struggle to breathe and ignoring my one stinging cut to the neck, I laughed and said, "Ooh that had to hurt."

I looked around for a rope or chain, knowing he'd catch his breath in a few moments and alert others or chase after me. His belt would have to do as a shackle. As much as I hated touching him, I had no choice. With a hard yank, the belt skidded through the loops and I expertly wrenched his arms to his back, making it as painful as possible, and bound them with the belt. I couldn't find my fine chain or cross in his hands or on the ground. The light was poor. It could have flown and skidded almost anywhere into the accumulated refuse. I caught the movement of a scrap of butcher paper litter fluttering in the evening air. I snagged it, balled it up, and crushed in into his gaping maw.

"I coulda killed you. Remember that," I said, then turned away.

I had to hide! I ran the length of the loading dock, found the stairs, and raced down the alley to the first side street. I thought I could hear the shout of men behind me, so I ran faster and turned and ran some more. It was a dingy place, like most manufacturing areas, and devoid of nightlife, except for vermin. I was reaching the limit of my endurance. Damned drugs.

Then I found a parking lot with a scant few vehicles in sight. Looked like the night shift was on_. Nice Harley_. I hot-started it so fast I didn't even take notice of the model number. I took off with a roar of success and headed toward the city. I needed cover and fast. I had to get off the street. First lights I saw belonged to a church. Great. I ditched the hog in the shadows and covered it with a hunk of torn tarp and some cardboard lying around. It was a nice ride and I might need it yet again.

I rushed to the doors. Locked. Next, I tried the side door to the chapel, but it was tight as a drum, too. I guess there were no souls to save tonight, certainly not mine. I couldn't waste anymore time hustling down a custodian to open up. I had to find cover, so it was back to the hog and a ride deeper into the city.

I turned toward the sounds of cars and people. I'd reached the club district, somewhat familiar. Again, I stowed the bike in an alley for safekeeping, and walked silently through the shadows towards the brighter blur of color and light. _Dead End_—apt name for a club, although from the shape and material I guessed that someone had simply hammered up a stolen street sign from the states. Except... the spelling was German. I impressed myself for going back to my roots and translating in my head. I'd been in New Germany too long, that's what it meant. God, I hated the drugs for messing with my head.

As a last second consideration, I quickly braided my hair. It was a mess of tangles and probably looked terrible, but loose it would be tugged and handled by strangers. I tore a strip of cloth from my shirt, knowing that would give me a cool look, and used it to tie off my hair.

I stepped inside. Low voices hummed, the thrumming of music rising as the volume increased and the new song progressed. I crossed a boundary that banished the dark, into a place of steamy heat and sound. Other boys, their naked bodies glistening wet with sweat, moved aside to admit me.

"Phone?" I asked.

One pointed toward the bar. I asked the barman and he passed me an ancient-looking piece of equipment. I stared at it stupidly. What was I to do with a dial with holes in it?

"Local calls only," he said in a heavy accent, then did a demo in the air of how to enter the number with a finger.

I dialed the local Preventer's agency. It's the same number worldwide, but with different area codes. "Agent 02 here. OH TWO. That's the one. I need an extraction. Yes, immediate, code red. I'm at a club called the _Dead End_ in the … that's the place. Really? All-out alert for me? Cool. Thanks."

I handed back the phone. "You will be rewarded," I said with a wink.

I hadn't a wallet or penny on me. I had no idea where my stuff was and found it hard to care. I was free. I'd done it and I hadn't killed anybody. With time to kill, I turned back to the dance floor and saw bodies moving under rotating lights, skin gleaming, rivulets of water running across hard muscles and tanned skin—too many to count. As I moved into the group, I felt the touch of warm skin against mine, random contacts, a thigh pressing then gone, a hand across my back, trailing heat like comet tails that left me tingling. I my cock filled, my breathing quickened, and my mind sharpened in preparation to take part in the dream unfolding on the surreal dance floor.

I arrived at the floor's center and stood swaying to the music, feeling the pulsing beat enveloping me in a relaxing cocoon. I tilted back my head and closed my eyes, feeling other boys against me, touching and gone, a chest brushing mine, a hard cock briefly on my thigh then vanish. Disembodied fingers touched my cheek, my hair, trickling down the inside of my arm bringing up goose bumps despite the steamy heat of the room. My cock lengthened, urgency building as I stood there undulating, eyes closed, feeling the points of contact like sparks on my skin.

"You are so hot and sexy, man. You're new here, huh?"

I opened my eyes to meet a pair of dark brown eyes smudged with kohl and framed by long, glossy black hair against naturally tanned skin. Pink lips stretched into a smile and a tongue tip slipped over the lower lip, leaving a wet trail. Even without the makeup he was extremely effeminate. Not my type, but it made me look more masculine in comparison.

"_Scythe_."

"Hi, _Scythe_. I'm Angel."

"I'll bet." I laughed and he laughed too.

"I didn't think anyone had longer hair than mine." His was waist length. "When it's not braided, how long is it?"

"Knees."

"Man, I'd like to see that. I'd like to see it loose."

I shrugged and took up his hands, placed them on my shoulders and rested mine on his hips. "Just dance with me, Angel, until they come for me."

I knew they would, he would. There was one someone who hadn't really left me, would never give up on me, and who would come for me. Deep down inside, I knew.

End, It's Back to Work, Chapter Twenty-Three


	31. It’s Back to Work Chapter 24

**DEFYING GRAVITY**

Part Two: It's Back to Work

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Gundam Wing or its characters, nor do I make any monetary profit off this story.  
Warnings: 1x2x1, 3x4x3, AU, yaoi, some language  
--Kaeru Shisho 7/2/2007 Heero's POV

* * *

"What?!" Zechs shouted into his cell phone. His hair was loose from the sleek, metal tieback he commonly wore, a long satin curtain reflecting the sulfurous light from the passing street lamps. 

"What was that again? Absolutely not. I know a club by that name." He leaned toward the limousine driver, Rashid, and said, "_Sackgasse_. Nightclub on Westside of New Germany."

The leader of the Maguanac corps nodded dutifully, enough to acknowledge the man not pay-rolling him. He knew, however, that his young charge, who was seated in the back with the other ex-Gundam pilots, depended on him.

"Take the next left, then right on 3rd to Hastor St. then right again."

Rashid nodded, bared his teeth, and accelerated to ninety in the next minute. Tires screeched and horns blasted as the car threaded its path toward the other side of town. Luckily it was too late at night for traffic snarls. Zechs had returned to his phone conversation, which was heating up.

"Of course you couldn't locate a club called _Dead End_! Fools! German is the primary language! _Sackgasse_! What? This is New Germany!" Zechs slammed his cell phone shut and pocketed it. "Duo called the local Preventers agency and gave them his location. Because he used his headquarters ID code, and gave his location as a club translated into English, they transferred the information back to the Sanc office. They've been fucking around in circles trying to look up clubs! In English! Back there! God damn it! Local incompetents! Maxwell was right about them."

"Duo's safe!?" Winner cried out.

"He called them…from the club?" I repeated, feeling foolish doing so, stultified by the information. "Do the agents have him then?"

"No! They called _me_ to find out if that was a code name for a safe house!" Zechs pounded the armrest and groaned in frustration.

"You are joking," Chang said. His voice was taut with strain from too little sleep and too much travel. "We notified everyone here of the possibility of his escape before we left headquarters. We have had to fly here from Sanc and they still haven't located him and he even managed to call them and tell them where to pick him up?!"

"Heads would roll, but that would leave the agency devoid of employees," Barton muttered.

The limo swayed as they took a corner too fast and swayed dangerously in the other direction as they swerved around the next. Chang grumbled beneath his breath about never having the chance to see his offspring. Barton latched onto Winner, protecting the smaller man from becoming 'minced' meat in the Heero/ Barton sandwich.

"My apologies, gentlemen, but we are here," Rashid said.

We all jumped out of the car probably looking like overeager young men from an all-male private military college on their first night out as we descended onto the club. Steamy, lithe males undulating to the music, clouds of nicotine-infused haze from never-extinguished chain smokers, brain-numbing music in rising crescendos of ear-splitting guitar riffs and discordant synthesizer— I wondered if Duo would like to come back here sometime.

Barton tugged on my jacket sleeve. Chang and I had left directly from the office and were dressed in our Preventer's uniforms. He and Winner had been resting back at the dorms and dressed hurriedly in jeans and their Preventer's leather jackets. I noticed he was enough taller than I, so that he could see over a few more heads. I let him drag me to the center of the dance floor, where I saw him. My Duo. He was dancing with an attractive Latino. Barton smoothly inserted himself in the Latino's face, giving me space to pull Duo into my arms.

"Hey," I said in his ear. I saw tears tracks on his cheeks.

"Hey," he said with a deep sigh. "What took you so long?"

"Traffic."

Duo rolled his eyes. "Wanna split?" he asked me.

"Yeah, sure."

"After this dance, though," Duo added, "Never gotta dance with you."

We danced together. I melted with him in my arms, grinding against me until I nearly came in my pants.

"Ugh," I moaned, humping him while standing there.

We might have stayed that way, forgetting everything going on around us, until gentle but firm hands pushed through the throngs, past the door, and to the waiting limousine, this time surrounded by police and faceless Preventer's agents.

"By the way," Duo said in my ear. "I left Raul tied up outside the building I'd been trapped in. They should pick him up before he gets away."

"Raul?" I froze. "They found him dead in a shuttle compartment." I struggled to recall what it was that Barton had said about Raul. I realized that I'd been distracted by worry at the time, instead of listening to what he'd said. "A body might have been ID'd under his other name."

"I know who I saw and pounded. I may be pretty messed up with drugs, but that guy was unmistakably Raul, the same Raul that cold-cocked me in Marrakech. I do not forget a face, 'Ro."

I grabbed the first agent I saw and passed on the information with a stat code. He looked at me then Duo, eyes widening with recognition. "Agent Yuy? Maxwell? Is that you? Hey, Ramir, get over here. Here they are. Man, I'm sure glad it was you and not me that got put on the case. Um, I'm Agent Williams. Ramir and I were originally picked to share extraction duty with you and Agent Chang."

I registered both their faces now. I had seen them every day at headquarters. "Yes, I know. You are responsible for the data stream analysis from the collars. Duo, this man helped locate you."

"Thanks?" Duo smiled faintly. He was fading as the adrenalin wore off. I suspected he'd been running on empty for some time.

"So, ah, that's your undercover look, eh, Duo?"

Duo smiled and looked over his skimpy clothes, hair swaying loose past his knees. "Yeah, um. 'Ro? It's cold. What time is it anyway?"

"Late."

Winner had been waiting his chance to greet his friend. His hug was brief without a lingering touch. I was not sorry to have killed that intimate contact they'd shared in the past. "Duo, we are all here and the car is over there, waiting. It's warm inside."

No sooner had the words passed his lips, than we heard shouting in the opposite direction. Duo stopped in his tracks. I turned at the noise of a disturbance coming our way. Two men wearing Preventer's uniforms embellished with New Germany insignia pushed through the swelling crowd. I had only seen one of their faces before. If the Preventer's Agent in Charge, Klaus Bauer, thought he could start pushing his weight around now, he was mistaken. Winner recognized him, too, and moved in front of Duo.

"Where's that boy? I wanna look at him before you drag his ass off to headquarters!"

The other agent in tow was red-faced and looked like a nervous stutterer to me. I guessed that to be junior agent Prior. Winner and I were ready for a fight. Duo did not deserve a dressing down from these bastards.

"Okay, which one's _Scythe_, the one with the eagle-eye and impossibly accurate shot? I wanna thank you for taking that man out without barely a scratch. That was one hellava shot, I gotta tellya!" Bauer raved on.

Duo stuck out a hand, "Yeah?"

"Shit, boy. You're not at all what I thought you'd look like."

"Undercover?" Duo said.

"Right, gotcha. And which is that _Wing_-man calling the shots?"

"I was an intermediary," I said. "_Sand_ handled strategy."

Winner stepped forward and said something thoughtful. I remembered why we had a pressing need to get out of there.

"Have you been part of the arresting forces over at Jade Pharmaceuticals?" I asked.

"Yes, got that Alric Gunter carted off and the place is crawling with CI and DEA men. Why?"

"Did you pick up a man outside… where was that?" I asked Duo.

"Back loading dock next to a freight elevator."

Bauer questioned Agent Prior, but the answer was "no."

"That man's dangerous. Name's Raul," I said, my anger ramping up.

"Race you there!" Duo shouted.

His fingers gripped my jacket and he yanked me around, hauling me through the crowd to the alley. I didn't waste breath asking what he was doing; I could guess.

"Nice ride. Where you get this?" I asked as I climbed onto the motorcycle behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist.

"Chemical plant parking lot. We'll return it in a minute." He grinned as if that would make stealing it okay. Guess it did, all things considered. "Babe, that's a great way to warm me up. Just keep on holding me tight!"

Somehow he wound his crazy way through alleys and side streets, back tracking the path he must have taken earlier. I smiled into his back, wondering how others might see this rash act of ours. Maybe I was a fool to listen to my lover's drug-induced words, words that propelled us through New Germany on a stolen bike hell-bent on finding a man I already knew was dead hundreds of miles away. Was madness catching? No, but I bet the active agents from the drugs now seeping from my lover's skin to mine through our close contact were. I found I didn't care.

He actually did drive straight for the parking lot first and parked the bike where he'd found it. He said so and I believed him. Together, Duo and I jogged around to the loading area. The light was poor, the only illumination streaming from a single lamp inside the partially open elevator. I grabbed hold of his mesh shirt and jerked him into the shadows, drawing my gun to cover us.

"The belt I used to tie him up is there. Damn! He got away. I lost my cross, 'Ro. I gotta go look for it."

I saw what he pointed to and nodded. "Be careful. He might still be lurking about."

"Watch my back."

"Always."

I didn't like the fact that the elevator door was still open. I scanned the dark shapeless masses then patted my inner pocket feeling for the night scope glasses. Raul should have shut it to make it operational again. Unless he needed the light to see-- I didn't notice Duo's progress toward the dock until he had jumped up onto the raised landing. He stood silhouetted, using the elevator light to see by.

"Get down!" I shouted.

I reached into by pocket and was relieved to find my night vision glasses where I'd put them in a moment of clarity, which seemed few and far between lately. I had a moment to scan the darkness to one side. As I twisted around to look into the dark alleyway, I heard the sound of a heavy foot.

I hoped Duo's reflexes were better than mine. I hoped he was flat on his belly as I dove toward the feet of the figure emerging from behind a row of barrels marked "NXC," noxious chemical storage containers. My thigh hit a loose piece of copper pipe hard as I rolled into position. Between the unexpected pain and the small amount of drugs from my contact with Duo's sweat, my concentration faded as I drew my gun, aimed and fired. Aiming for extremities, I corrected my aim and fired again and again, going for a maiming hit of any kind.

I heard other shots coming from several directions, rolled into a crouch and found new targets. An alarm alerted my brain to pull up as I recognized the voices of agents identifying themselves.

"Officers of the law! Put down your weapons!"

With one more look back to see that the man in the alley was hunched over, gripping an arm and one of the Preventer agents stooped near, checking for other weapons, I stumbled to my feet to find Duo.

Bauer reached him first and hauled him to his feet. "You okay, kid?"

I heard the best sound I'd heard all night.

"Yeah, found my chain, too." Duo looked around and spotted me limping over. His makeshift braid had come loose and his hair was everywhere. "You're hurt, Heero."

"Nothing. Leg hit an obstruction on a roll." I removed the glasses so I could examine him in the light. He was gorgeous, wild-looking, pumped. "You?"

"Fine. The bastard ripped this off when I nailed him and didn't have time to look for it in the dark. Thanks for covering me."

Duo dangled his chain and cross in front of my face. I could hear another car pealing into loading area and sirens in the distance. Bauer's expression turned to one of awe.

"Heero? He called you… Heero Yuy? Not_ that _Heero Yuy!"

"I'm just an agent from headquarters," I affirmed.

The other agent was joined by a host of others and an ambulance backed into position near the downed man.

"Is that Prior?" Duo asked, cocking his head toward the alley.

Bauer nodded.

"Hey, Prior!" Duo yelled. "You got the name off that dude's ID yet?"

Agent Prior jogged over to join us, demanding, "Who made that shot?"

"I did. It was a little high. I encountered a stray pipe and it unbalanced my arm. He's going to make it, isn't he?" I asked.

"Damn, you guys up at headquarters are good," he said. "Yeah, you hit his hand and forearm, probably the gun too. I recovered it ten feet away. I think it had blast mark on a side. Let the investigators determine… What is it sir?" Prior paused and addressed his superior.

"Damned right he's good. You know who he is? Heero Yuy! Oh, and don't let the clothes put you off this other one, I gotta feeling I know who he is now. "

"Duo!" Winner's voice cried out over the din.

The thunderous footfalls of several more men, including at least one of the Maguanacs, followed the voice.

"You're all right!" Winner forced his way up to us and started patting Duo down, checking for new injuries, this time ignoring my "hands off" warning signals. "Why did you take off like that?" He turned on me next. "Why did you let him?! Heero, you've cut your forehead."

Barton and Chang joined us, Chang demanding to know what was going on.

"Hey, Quatre, chill out," Barton cooed, patting his back. "Things are okay."

"CHILL! There is no chill!" Chang barked. "We just rescued Maxwell, had him and his nitwit boyfriend nearly in the car, when they took off. Do you know we nearly lost you AGAIN?!"

"Not really, Chang," Barton put in.

Chang leveled his obsidian eyes at Barton then looked askance to notice the other two agents on the scene. "Who the hell are you?"

"These are agents Bauer and Prior. Bauer is in charge of the local Preventer's agency." I handled the introductions. "Which is fortunate, because by now they have figured out who we really are. Isn't that right?"

Prior nodded. "H-Heero Yuy, Quatre W-winner, T-Trowa Barton, C-Chang Wufei, and D-Duo Maxwell."

"Well, damn. I feel better knowing those hotshots I was cursing out really were hotshots. The five Gundam pilots, hot damn! And you all work at headquarters?"

"Not for long," Duo muttered after a prolonged period of silence. "So, ah, the guy Heero shot, was that Raul Frolich?"

Prior awoke from his stress-induced coma. "Yes, how did you know?"

He and I gave him a quick report, enough to satisfy them for the night so we could leave. I didn't think either would be long in their jobs without putting in some re-training time, but that wasn't my job to take care of that night. Rashid opened the door to the limousine and we filed inside.

"I hope I missed the excitement," Zechs said from the front seat. "I didn't move. Looked like you all had it covered."

"You made the right decision," Chang said, sighing. "I should have remained also."

"I just went after Quatre," Barton explained.

"I, I have nothing to say," Winner said. "I give up."

"It's okay, bud," Duo said kindly. "I appreciate you coming to pick us up. I had a Harley to return. Raul to catch, and he tried to take this," he held up the cross, "when he attacked me."

"Raul? But--" Zechs began.

"The dude with the dual identities rises from the dead. Some act," Barton said, yawning wide and adjusting Winner's position on his lap, drawing him into the nook of his lanky arm where it rested against the door. "Belongs in the circus."

"A story," Duo said with a matching yawn, "which is not going to be discussed anymore tonight. I want to go home, shower, and sleep the sleep of the dead, only the living kind, not the dead-for-real-dead, ya know?"

"You look so good, Duo."

I leaned close and pulled him onto my lap. Chang didn't mind; it gave him extra room to spread out. I didn't care about what anyone else might think.

"So do you, 'Ro. Been a while for you, huh?" He wiggled his butt and grinned mischievously.

"Yes," I growled.

"I'm pretty good looking myself, so finding sex isn't so much of a problem for me," he said, or _Scythe _did. He wasn't all Duo, not by a long shot.

For a moment I wasn't sure if he was joking or not. He'd been through a lot. I didn't even know how much. I guess my expression said it all.

"Hey, didn't mean nothing, 'Ro. So as not to torture you or anything. Gunter drugged me but, as far as I'm aware of, nothing serious happened. I had some confusion, shit, a lot of that, but… So the collar thing worked? He broke parts of it taking it off me. I fixed what I could. Damn, 'Fei? Do you have a hair tie I could use? Having this mess loose is like having a hairy Siamese twin on my back. I didn't have my tools so I had to improvise…"

I stopped his rant with a kiss of passion.

"Thank you," Chang said with a sigh.

"Are we heading to the airport or a hotel, sir?" Rashid asked Winner, catching his eyes in the rearview mirror.

"Hotel, please. I can't bear the thought of boarding another plane so soon, as much as I want to see my house, my room, my bed --"

"Your boyfriend," Barton put in, hopefully.

"Him, too. Him _especially!_"

I let Duo come up for air. My bad.

"I kept getting the UC jobs confused. I thought I was in Gunter's house and Mill? You were across the street, and I was stuck there, but I couldn't find any of the bugs I'd put around."

"We got the formulas you downloaded," Chang said. "Then an audio feed for about an hour before it cut out for good."

"Oh yeah? So, the stuff was good, right? You got Gunter shutdown? And he is locked up, isn't he?"

"He is done hurting boys, but we came for you," Winner said. "The rest of Preventer's can do mop up."

Zechs twisted around in his front seat. "I spoke to Commander Une. She says 'good job.'"

"Tell her she can stick the job!" Duo shouted back.

"Hear, hear!" Winner cheered. "Same goes for me, and I mean that in the nicest possible way."

"There's a nice way?" Barton asked with a chuckle.

"She also says they have Alric Gunter in custody. The fire department put out a kitchen fire in the cafeteria and he was treated for smoke inhalation. He was gasping for air and begging them to go back for his '_Scythe_.' Fire chief said there weren't men enough to go hunting for some rich man's weapon collection. They had to restrain Gunter after that. He kept trying to talk with damaged lungs. The fire chief told him that 'Neither were they going in for some long-haired dog who probably had the sense to run for it anyway.'"

Duo howled.

Hell, it was good to laugh. It was good to hold Duo on my lap and feel him laugh. It was good to hold Duo, my Duo, and know he was whole and alive. He could survive a brutal beating, torture, even having his head shaved, but death, even Shinigami couldn't get by that.

"You know what I want?" he asked me.

"No, what?"

"Sun. I want sunshine, but not heat. Sand and water, but more water than sand. I want the beach."

"We can do that!" Winner chirped. "We all get time off for UC work and the beach house is ours if we want it."

"Okay," I said.

"Beach sounds good to me," Rashid said. "We will pack clothes for several weeks. Would the sirs like assistance packing?"

"Maybe. That is very generous of you. I'll be in touch. I'm sure we won't be allowed time off until we've been interviewed by the commander and close out the mission. A week, maybe." Winner sighed. "I'm quitting, just so you all know that."

I grunted. I wasn't sure what he meant. Time later.

"I would like to see Sally," Wufei said.

"There are several cottages. Why not ask her to join you? She'll be taking time off soon enough. I'll bet Commander Une will be very accommodating," Winner pressed.

"Sally? Sally Po? She never takes time off," Duo said. "I mean, she'll need to stored that all up for later, right? What am I missing here?"

Winner opened his mouth and was about to tell him the news, but Barton wisely covered it with his hand, quickly replacing the hand with his lips.

"Mumrph!"

I smiled waited for Chang to clear his throat. It was his news to break. "She has agreed to marry me."

"Really? Hey, that's great, 'Fei! I don't know what you promised her. Must be your forked, I mean, charmed tongue… Hey!"

Chang punched at him half-heartedly.

"So while the rest of us are busting our butts on this assignment, you've been carrying on your romance long distance?" Duo said, eyes twinkling, baiting our friend.

"Not exactly. I asked her when the rest of us got back. I had a pulled… muscle. We talked in the infirmary."

"Yeah?"

"None of us have been back to our house, Duo," Winner cut in. "We've all been staying in the dorms at headquarters."

"Except for Chang, here, who had a pulled…what was it? Ass?" Barton asked, grinning a rare grin.

"Groin," Chang said.

"Ah, yes. So, he had to maintain a horizontal position in the medical unit."

"I was hurt!" Change insisted. "I was at my desk, or your desk, 20 out of 24 hours a day for the past week. I rested in the infirmary to regain my health."

"Uh, huh," Duo said with a sarcastic tone. "It's okay. Fei-man will need all the sleep and strength he can get, because in another seven months he'll be walking the halls all night crying, um, the baby _and_ him doing the crying."

Duo was teasing now. God, it was great to hear him just being himself again. Even Chang couldn't be his insufferable stuffy self. I buried my face in his hair and breathed him in. I hugged him hard and held back tears welling in my eyes. "I love you," I whispered, whether Duo could hear me or not.

Chang turned away, speaking on his cell phone. Barton and Winner were whispering and kissing alternatively. Zechs was quiet.

"Mill…iardo," I said, stumbling over the unfamiliar name.

His head turned slowly until he and I could just meet eyes. "Yuy?"

"I want to thank you for seeing this mission through. I know I wasn't particularly cooperative at the beginning, and I'd like to apologize for any disrespect I've shown."

"Thank you, Heero. Although we may not be teamed again soon, I would be honored to working with you, or any of you again."

"Me, too?" Duo asked.

"Ah, everyone but Maxwell. You are too… intense for me. Professional, but too much." Milliardo smiled kindly and chuckled.

Quatre separated from Trowa's embrace enough to talk. "You'll come stay at the beach house, won't you?" Quatre asked kindly. "Your wife and daughter are invited, of course. There's a cottage just for you. I'm sure they'd like to see you exclusively for awhile, but we've never met them. We wouldn't interfere--."

"Okay!" Milliardo said, laughing. "You've convinced me. I will call her now. She's already moved into a temporary place near headquarters."

"Why's that?' Duo asked.

"Job change. I'll be relocating to Sanc headquarters permanently. Nothing's final yet. I've got several details yet to work out." He pulled out his cell phone and turned to face forward.

Chang smiled, but didn't give up his caller. "Sally says that she'd love to join us and that she has accumulated enough time-off to tally a year's paid leave. Thank you, Quatre."

Winner's eyes widened and then he smiled and nodded. I don't think I'd heard Chang call any of us by our first names before. A few minutes later, Milliardo contacted his family and secured their agreement to join us.

"Thank you, Master Winner. I notified the Maguanacs of your plans. They will enjoy a rest at the beach," Rashid said.

"A well deserved one," Milliardo said, "for us all."

End, It's Back to Work, Chapter Twenty-Four


	32. It’s Back to Work Chapter 25

**DEFYING GRAVITY**

Part Two: It's Back to Work

**Chapter Twenty-Five**

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Gundam Wing or its characters, nor do I make any monetary profit off this story.  
Warnings: 1x2x1, 3x4x3, AU, yaoi, some language  
--Kaeru Shisho This chapter is from Duo's POV

* * *

Although I hadn't been home in many months, when we pulled up in front I knew right off the bat that something had changed about our place. Golden light shone from the windows-- that was weird. The door was unlocked, that was a clue. The moment I stepped inside, though, I figured something was not wrong, however, but _right_. Righter than right. The house was spotless; it smelled fresh, not like aging gym socks or rotting bananas. 

"Hey, jeez, guys, you didn't haveta outdo yourselves like this. Just for me."

"They didn't, you crazy boy!"

"Sally? Hey, I was right. There _is_ an intruder in our den. It was like 'who's been cleaning in _my_ kitchen?' thinking of Goldilocks and all. This is great! You cleaned? Man, I love ya. A girl after my heart. Career lady who can fix my hurts and keeps a neat--"

"Move out of the way, Maxwell," Wufei said with a firm push to my back. "The woman is already taken. Find one of your own, if you want."

"He does not _want._ He's unavailable." Heero nudged me over further. I'd be out the back door in no time if I didn't assert myself. "You didn't have to do this, Sally, but thank you," Heero added with one more less than gentle shove. "Duo, I want to get to the refrigerator, please—"

"Yes, thank you, Sally!" Quatre gushed. "It's so refreshing to come home to find the place sparkling clean."

"You're sparkling clean, Quatre," Sally said laughing.

"Oh, well, I've had to wash and wash and wash to get that dreadful red dye out of my hair. It's taken weeks! I finally had to have it done professionally before we left New Germany. I wanted to come home with some aspect of me untainted. I think they got it a little too light."

"Sun bleached and ready for the beach," Trowa said mussing Quatre's hair as he too fought over a space by the bar room divider. "Nice job on the floors, Sal. Forgot they were that color. Okay, Chang, so where can I get one of these wife-people?"

Trowa ducked Quatre's desultory punch. "Trowa, you have what you deserve, isn't that enough?"

Trowa, suddenly serious, said, "Absolutely, for me. I was thinking of one for you, Sunshine," then leaned over and kissed Quatre as a peace-keeping measure.

Quatre smiled fondly. "That's okay. I've got what I want."

"If you are going to become maudlin," Wufei said, "I'm taking my woman out."

"Nah, not us," Trowa said. "So, what's for dinner?"

"No cooking. Pizza is on the way," Sally told him in her no-nonsense way. "After all, I heard Duo is the chef in the house. I bow to his superior skills."

Heero looked up and studied her for a moment. "You're staying?"

"Well, yes. Didn't Wufei talk to you guys about me moving in?" One glance at the properly abashed young man and it was clear he had not. "You forgot?"

"I took it for granted. A detail lost in the confusion." Wufei looked around at the rest of us. "You have your roommates; I have mine, temporarily, until we can afford a place of our own."

It could have been an awkward moment, but Quatre saved the new couple from further embarrassment. "Oh, Wufei… Sally, of course you should move in! This is fabulous! Really! There's plenty of room. Besides, we're hardly ever all here at one time anyway. And stay for as long as you need. No rush!"

Quatre looked sincerely overjoyed at the nice turn of events, and in a moment the prickly moment passed. We unloaded our few bags, changed clothes, and cleaned up, astonishingly, for dinner. When the pizza deliveryman dropped off the five extra large pizzas, three full-liter bottles of soda, and six salads, three happy, shining couples regrouped around the table for dinner.

"Wait," Trowa said before we dropped the food on the table. "Give me a moment here."

"Why?" Heero asked.

I was as baffled as anyone. The table was there, waiting. Trowa looked at the cleared surface and shook his head.

"And here I thought our dining room table was Yuy's flat filing cabinet."

All right, it was nothing. We littered the table with our spread immediately, chuckling.

"Half of that was yours."

"Nope. Never brought work home."

"I didn't say you brought it, but it was still your work I was sorting."

"Workaholic, Yuy. You gotta chill more."

Unexpectedly, my guy agreed. "You're right. I'm starting now and not rushing back to work."

"This coming from the man whose to-do list included entries for lunch and bathroom breaks," Trowa added.

"That's not—" Heero realized that Trowa was just pulling his leg and chuckled. "What a clown…" he said just loud enough for Trowa to hear.

"I heard that." Trowa smiled.

Heero smiled. "Good."

Not even an exchange of blows. We were on our best behavior that night. Must have been the influence of a lady in our presence. Civilizing. Conversation was light, while the food and drink disappeared at an alarming rate.

"I found this on the fridge. I wasn't certain if it was important or not," Sally said, pushing a scrap of paper across the table toward me, who was listening.

"Heh, heh. That grocery list has been on the fridge so long some of the products don't even exist anymore. You can toss it."

We shared a smile and eventually the cleanup duties. We were all too wasted for much else that night. Trowa filed through the mail, discarding most of it, leaving Winner and Chang to fight over the bill-paying duty. Heero and I excused ourselves shortly thereafter, missing Sally's decision to take Quatre up on his offer and have their wedding at the beach house. Wufei must have gone along with the idea, because I didn't hear any yelling, but then I was pretty tired and out of it by that time.

We slept for nearly two days. Heero and I shared a bed, but really pretty much only to sleep; we were that exhausted. Also, we aspired to save the best sex for the beach, where we knew we'd feel more in the mood. I think all the unwanted sex from the last job had drained my desire, or blocked it. No big deal. Quatre told me he and Trowa were 'off', too. Sally said it was normal and the vacation would work its miracle on all of us. I guessed even Wufei's bedtime activities were less than stellar.

One afternoon, we all helped Sally move over the last of her things. Like us, she had been too busy working to have accumulated very much or bother fixing up her abode. We boxed and schlepped and hauled for a couple hours until her sparsely furnished studio apartment was emptied, cleaned, and closed up. We had the rest of the week to pack for our vacation, write up reports, and congregate at Commander Une's desk for one last meeting of the minds.

(o)

Dear Commander Une,

I must begin with an apology. I'm sorry, but I don't think I have ever hated an assignment as intensely as this last one, my absolutely final mission. From the very first meeting I hated it. I knew Duo would fight against having a partner and resent Heero's interference, which may have contributed to Milliardo Peacecraft returning to earth to head the mission. I knew it was an important operation, I knew Duo would be assigned undercover, and I knew I had to do everything I could to make sure Duo made it out alive. He was my best friend and I knew this would be his last infiltration job as well.

I have many talents and one of them enables me to sense the stronger emotions and emotional conflicts of those close to me. So, when I say Duo was miserable or Trowa was disturbed or Heero or Wufei, believe me, they were. My own fears that I might fail, costing somebody's life, was often so profound that I nearly up and ran away several times. It took all my strength of will based on my devotion to my friends to stick it out. I gave it my all, and now I want something new.

I've always been proud of my many talents. I play piano and violin. I was a good agent, a capable marksman, and a hard worker who never shirked a task. I confess, I've never been a gifted pretender. I have limited life experiences and have no aptitude for acting out, which was why I avoided covert missions demanding out-of-character undercover work. I made so many mistakes and I'm lucky none of them compromised the mission or led to a fellow team mates' injury, or worse, their death. Had I performed that poorly, I don't know how I could have gone on.

I'm a good and loyal friend, intelligent, and trustworthy. I'm not keen on violence, although I have lived embroiled in it for years. I like working with people. I'm a people person, including locking up those who have broken the law. Being employee with the Preventers organization has given me challenges and rewards, and in many ways has been a very good fit for my talents, as long as I never moved too far from my comfort zone. For comparison, this last mission took place in the Twilight Zone, and not the good one. This time I wasn't protected by a layer of Gundanium. It was all flesh and blood.

I've made some truly wonderful friends and new relationships in the Preventers organization. This has led directly to my needing to change jobs as well as made it terribly difficult for me to make this change in my life. I discovered why lovers should not work together, and it had nothing to do with any of the reasons, although sound, Preventers has in the rulebook. I will miss the easy friendships of my fellow agents, but I never again wish to compromise my lover's happiness as I did on that operation. So, I quit before I'm asked, or he is, under a dark cloud.

Thank you for all the opportunities you have given me in this job. I was a pretty raw recruit when I joined up, but you treated me like gold. I shall continue to serve my community in a different capacity in the future, but hope that you won't hesitate to call if I may be assistance to you, even if it is in some small way. This was the last joint mission of the five Gundam pilots. If I were sentimental, I'd be sad to say that, but I'm not. I'm an optimist and the best is yet to come.

Please accept this, my formal resignation from the Preventers Organization.

Sincerely,  
Quatre R. Winner

(o)

My Lady,

As promised, I quit the undercover racket. Let me know when that opening in security opens up, or maybe I can mess with the records and make my own job opening? Just kidding! I'd be okay with the recruit training, too, if you'd trust me not to corrupt their innocent minds. Heh, heh… Anyway, it's been a hellova ride, but I know when it's time to get off.

Your dedicated servant,  
Duo Maxwell

(o)

Commander Une  
Preventers Headquarters  
Sanc Kingdom, Earth

Dear Madam,

I am pleased to accept your generous offer. Some might think it to be an interesting turn of events that I should accept the position of second-in-charge to you, but I know it is I who is honored. Relocation will take some time, but my family is looking forward to returning home, for the Sanc Kingdom will always feel like home to us. I recommend Agent Wufei Chang for promotion to the position of my assistant and partner in times of need.

Yours to command,  
Milliardo Peacecraft

(o)

Commander Une,

I accept the promotion, which you have extended to me, including the additional duties and responsibilities as described in your memo. Your offer was most generous and timely. I admire and respect Mr. Peacecraft and look forward to working with him. I shall endeavor not to disappoint.

Sincerely,  
Agent Chang

(o)

C. Une--  
As per memo—Personnel changes acknowledged, date and time of meeting noted—Yuy

(o)

Commander. Got memo. I accept and I'll be there. Respectfully, T Barton

(o)

Commander Une began the meeting:

"I have read each of your reports and recommendations, which I will take under advisement. I would like to begin by saying personally how very pleased I am with your performances on this very trying mission. The results were worth the struggles; at least, I hope you will all come to agree with me on that, when I review the facts, or at least after a cushion of time.

"As you know, Mr. Winner has turned in his resignation, and with great reluctance I have accepted it, active the close of this day. I nearly didn't, but when he paid me a personal visit and explained his future plans, I concluded that I could offer him no better alternative. Who am I to stand in the way of a young man's earning his college degree and taking his place in his family's business? I hope Winner Corp realizes what a valuable asset I am relinquishing to them, and treasures you as much as I have, Mr. Winner."

Quatre, put on his diplomatic face and replied, "Thank you, Lady Une. You've been most gracious."

"Not at all. I could say far more and embarrass you even more," she said with a quirky smile. "But I might start to cry."

Her smile turned wistful as she glanced over the papers in her hands. "Next, Duo Maxwell also requested a job re-assignment, which I was relieved to find was only for an interoffice transfer and not an extended leave of absence. This morning we spoke together briefly to firm the plans, so I am able and pleased to introduce Senior Agent Duo Maxwell as our new Worldwide Training Manager for Inductees."

"Now there's a real jaw-breaker of a title," Trowa whispered across the table to me.

"Yeah, it's cool," I said.

"**I-iinnductees**_,"_ the commander continued. "As a result of this mission, as you are aware, thousands of boys and young men have been freed from wrongful confinement. Sadly, scores of them came from the streets and have no homes or suitable situations to which to return. As their rightful birth-cities are discovered, the local children's services and foster agencies are stepping up to place them in safe homes. However, many of them are young men, too old for foster care and yet ill-equipped to return to constructive, safe lifestyles on their own. These individuals are being offered several alternatives, one of which is induction into Preventers.

"How young?" Heero asked.

"None under seventeen and hundreds are taking that route. The five of you set an example on this last mission, one that has left a lasting impression on many, many people, these young men included. They see hope and a future, because if a 'street-rat from L2' can be a hero, then maybe with a great deal of hard work, they can as well.

She was choking me up here, and Quatre pounded me on the back.

"It's okay, Duo. I'm proud too."

"That's right; you have much to be proud of. Out in the field, an agent never knows who is watching you and attending to how you conduct yourself. I have always trusted the five of you one hundred percent to uphold the values Preventers extols."

Commander Une smiled as she caught each of us with her eyes. She was really good with the personal contact that way. I felt her trust, confidence, and faith in me. Humbling, gotta tell ya.

"So, these are the boys I am entrusting to your car, Senior Agent Maxwell, to instruct, train and imbue with your strong virtues. You are loyal, trustworthy, reliable, devoted, and most importantly, you care, personally about maintaining those high standards in your work and in your personal life."

I was subdued. It sure seemed to me that that last job degraded any high standards I might have had. I had disgusted even myself, slutting it up in New Germany clubs, trading sexual favors, and downing drugs, for whatever reason. Of course, it was part of the job and I had gathered invaluable evidence, but I couldn't completely shrug-off the feeling of loathing for much of what I'd had to do. I was excited by the opportunity this new job offered and had accepted it, but under the circumstances I was taken aback by all the accolades.

"Ah, thanks, Commander. Hope I can live up to all those kind words. I, ah, don't know what to say."

"Don't worry, Duo, you'll have great communication skills when the time comes," Quatre said. "Now that you are management, it doesn't take so much. Management communicates, the underlings listen, figure out what they meant, and do it."

"What?" I laughed aloud. _Ah, thanks bud for lightening it up for me._

Une laughed. "Mr. Winner, I never knew about your sarcastic streak."

"He normally keeps it well hidden under that veneer of upper-class gentility," Mill said, speaking up for the first time.

Trowa thought that was extremely funny. He sucked up his laughter, and said, "Just picturing him a couple weeks ago. gotta copy of that photo you took of him, Duo, smoking... Something less than upper-crust, he was, ah, sorry to interrupt."

Quatre frowned, pretending to have been scandalized. "You will forget…forget--"

Une took back control of the meeting with her over-voice technique. "_**A-A-anyway**_, Agent Maxwell, you will do well. I'll have a boy on the inside reporting back to me to make sure." She smiled at my surprised response. "A nice young man who said he recognized the Deathscythe pilot on the shuttle from his 'kick ass' braid. His words not mine."

Of the three kids Trowa had essentially delivered from the maws of death, one of them had had the guts to help me move a dead body. Ten to one, that was the one. Big mouth, too, as I remembered.

"Let me move on or we will be here all day." Une sipped at her water, set down her glass, and checked her notes. "Mr. Winner's proposed absence left Agent Chang bereft of a partner, not that I was afraid that a man of his caliber would languish for long. In fact, within an hour of my posting the preliminary announcement, the Drug Enforcement portion of the agency put in their request. 'An agent of his quality should be heading our sting operations,' said the DE department director. I agreed, but another option opened, which I'm pleased Agent Chang accepted immediately. Before I describe that job, I'd like to diverge momentarily.

"I would like to introduce to you Senior Agent and my new second in command, Director Milliardo Peacecraft. He has been very good to agree to relocate back to Sanc. A home is being located as we speak, is that correct?"

"Yes, we will be enjoying a week's vacation, together with the other gentlemen at this table, thanks to the generosity of Mr. Winner. After that, we have secured a temporary rental while some old estate property is restored and brought up to code."

"Better be inviting us all to your house-warming bash," I said.

"I shall," the man chuckled. "If any of us have time to spare by then." He looked at Wufei then back at Une. "May I make the announcement?"

The commander nodded and smiled at Wufei, too. "Please."

Mill stood and strode over behind Wufei and rested a hand on the back of his chair. "My taking this job came with the condition that I, too, get an assistant. One of Preventers basic tenets is that for all employees, in an emergency we must be ready, willing, and able to fill an agent's position at any time, and when I must I wanted a partner I could depend on and trust without pause. I had my choice of the best of the best, and for me that is Administrative Coordinator and Senior Agent Wufei Chang."

I scrunched over closer to the poor guy and offered my condolences. "Kinda crappy what work we gotta take when we're pinched for cash, eh? I remember the good old days when 'Requires Team Leadership Skills' on our job description just meant you'd have the responsibilities of a manager, without the pay or respect."

Wufei's eyes grew wide gathering up my meaning a moment before he burst out into a loud guffaw. I think it was all getting to him and he just needed a bit of relief. After a few other wise cracks, and congratulatory remarks, Une restored order and continued.

"My other two ex-Gundam pilots still in my employ have also received highly deserved and overdue promotions. Senior Agent Heero Yuy and Senior Agent Trowa Barton will continue in their current capacities temporarily. Additionally, they will be preparing to oversee a small team each of novice-level agents. The premier ranked trainees from these new recruits will be selected for these teams, as they demonstrate to Agent Maxwell the proficiency and aptitude required.

"What I'd like to have in two years are five fully-functional, small teams with a broader skill set than the current special ops we have today—and ready to move into an operation on a dime. This is a significant move away from the passive peacekeeping role we have maintained to date. Organizations like Romefeller will continue to fill the void its destruction has created without our active resistance and vigilance to stop them.

"No more solo missions, no assignments made into high-risk ventures because of a lack of man-power. We have a huge influx of young prospects, and we will make the most of our largess. Questions? Yes, Agent Maxwell."

"So, what I wanna know is why Heero and Trowa don't get fancy-ass titles on their doors?" I asked. Way I figured it, they deserved as good as I got.

Heero groaned and buried his face in his hands, elbows resting on the table, and stared at the papers in front of him. Trowa chuckled.

"When they get their recruits, they will choose team names and restructuring will occur at that juncture. I'll have the doors to their offices painted with elaborate titles then. Does that meet with your approval?"

"Yeah, guess I'd better get on the ball and do my job. Get those boys through the system," I said. I grinned at Heero and gave him jubilant "thumbs up."

Trowa cracked up. "Don't knock yourself out," he said.

"Afraid you'll have to start working?"

"Oh, he works," Quatre said. "It might look like he's doing nothing, but at the cellular level he's really quite busy."

Trowa laughed so hard I saw tears in his eyes. "Hey, man… If you're good, you'll be assigned all the work, but if you're really good, you'll get out of it. You know that!"

Heero joined the roast. "He just makes it look easy and avoids distractions. Would you like to know his secret?"

"Do tell," said Wufei, amused.

"He's very elusive when he needs to be. That way, he escapes the time wasters. The other day—"

"As in four months ago?" I asked.

"Yes. A newbie stopped us in the hall. He said Karla from tech support told him to find 'the one-eyed guy' if he had a computer problem."

"I helped Karla with a virus problem once and she hadn't forgiven me, apparently," Trowa said.

"I'll remember to avoid her, then," Heero said. "After the newbie asked if Barton was one that knew something, Trowa's comeback was 'Who me? I just wander from room to room.' And the worst part is he believed him."

"Is that why some people on our floor think you're the copy machine repairman?" Wufei asked. "I always wondered."

While this witty repartee circled around the table, I noticed Mill jotting notes in a notebook. "So, Mill, I thought this was a 'listen' kind of meeting, but while we, your co-workers are listening or answering mysterious questions, you're here scribbling our answers in a notebook. What gives?"

He smiled and muttered something about "psychological profiles."

I leaned closer, reading, and caught our names and lists, words, like: Trowa—withdrawn, Quatre—prim, Wufei—prissy, me—immature, and Heero—bull-headed.

"Hey!" I shouted. I stabbed at the paper to get his attention. "I got a one word description for you—"

End, It's Back to Work, Chapter Twenty-Five


	33. It’s Back to Work Chapter 26

**DEFYING GRAVITY**

Part Two: It's Back to Work

**Chapter Twenty-Six**

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Gundam Wing or its characters, nor do I make any monetary profit off this story.  
Warnings: 1x2x1, 3x4x3, AU, yaoi, some language  
--Kaeru Shisho And a bit more of Duo's final POV

* * *

"Hey!" I shouted. I stabbed at the paper to get Mill's attention. "I got a one word description for you—" 

A discordance of "Duo!" reverberated in the room. There was Quatre's "I know I can't stop you but I wish you'd not say that horrible thing you're about to say and regret it later." Heero's sounded more like "So help me… would you just shut up so we can get this over with and leave on our vacation." The others were variations on both themes.

"--wrong!" I yelled. I didn't stop with that, no I did not. "I don't know what your problem is, but I'll bet it's hard to pronounce!"

"Duo, if you'd give me a moment to explain—"

"I see what you've put down there: 'Maxwell—threat to himself.' Well, at least I have a positive attitude about my destructive habits."

"Man, come on now, Maxwell, you are starting to sound reasonable. Time to up my medication. What do you think, doc?" Trowa drawled.

Mill shook his head trying to hide his smile behind a hand and answer me seriously, despite everyone else's attempts to derail him. "You know, I'm really easy to get along with once you people learn to worship me."

Wufei snorted and started laughing, and Heero's head sank to the table top. His shoulders shook so I figured he was laughing silently.

"Months ago I learned that any connection between your reality and mine was purely coincidental, Duo. We got along better after that, I think."

Oh, there was mucho humor in his eyes, so I softened up. "I can see your point, Mill, but I still think you're full of crap."

Heero directed a comment my way. "Graceful back down, Duo."

"I do have a reasonable explanation," Mill began again. "These notes, as you referred to them, were from my observations back in January when we met for the planning of the last mission. And, as you pointed out, they were incorrect, to a point. I think there are those aspects to your personalities, but there is far, far more. I was aware that all of you were highly gifted young men, but gifts improperly nurtured and applied are often squandered, or can turn lethal. For instance, what if Agent Yuy had chosen to become a vigilante terrorist, or you a professional smuggler? I do not doubt that you both would be very successful today—"

"Or incarcerated," Trowa said barely above a whisper.

"But what a waste of talent, don't you agree? My point is that I didn't know you and I was about to depend on you to carry out my operation. Over time, I learned to appreciate all your complexities. Yes, I thought Trowa was seriously introverted, but, instead, I learned that he's cautious, patient, and thoughtful. He was able to gain the trust of those boys at Gunter's and keep them from panicking in the face of very real danger. He was the beacon of hope to them. He kept his cool, even after another man in his same position was gunned down before his eyes. He never shirked his duty or complained, and performed remarkably under dangerous conditions, even when he had to work independently.

"Quatre, while never a truly believable street boy, dove into his role without a whimper. He never protested, nitpicked, or baulked. Whatever task was thrown at him he endeavored to perform, whether it be research, hacking, or keeping up our spirits. He deserves a commendation alone for the tons of laundry he did while at that house! Ah… just kidding… I was astounded how quickly he could come up with a plan. His strategies were brilliant and sound. It was his deductive reasoning skills that turned around our thinking countless times, like drawing the parallels between the army training base locations and the drug drop off points. I really had no idea how skilled with arms you were either, Quatre.

"And...I am very sorry that you and Trowa had to work under those difficult conditions, considering your relationship. I know, had I had to watch men fondle or do worse to my wife without leave to retaliate that I would not have been able to just tolerate it and perform my job.

"Wufei and Heero-- I had not expected to work with you, not until the extraction at the end, if at all. I was pleased to find you both the consummate professionals, having at the last minute to remove yourselves from one assignment and contort yourselves with excruciating pain into playing roles for which you had inadequate time to prepare. Those numbers… I saw the numbers collected from your range firing, Yuy, and you were indeed spectacular.

"Yes, Wufei can be stuffy at times, but so can I. It comes with the upbringing, although I have no idea how Quatre had transcended that flaw to become so warm and caring a person. Just remarkable, as I said before.

"Chang's hand-to-hand combat statistics were phenomenal in the trials. I was a most envied man, both by the other sellers and by the buyers. I most certainly was impressed by your detective work and your persuasive abilities. How you got Dorothy Catalonia to leave her vacation and complete the work her slovenly grunts could not is a mystery to me."

"It is better left unrevealed," Wufei said.

"Trade secret," Trowa said. "Like with magicians."

"I see. Well, now I'm even more curious."

"I, as well," said our beloved commander.

"Yeah, well, me too," I cut in, "but about where you're going with this character analysis of yours--"

"Duo, I'm not yet finished. You see, as another heterosexual male, I understood completely the discomfort Chang had to endure being placed in the situations he was—"

"Oh, please… spare me," I groaned.

"Clearly, his loyalty, endurance, skill, and perseverance had a great impact on me, impressed me, because I would choose him as partner and assistant in a heartbeat over again and again."

"And just so no one makes the wrong assumption here, his choosing Wufei had nothing to do with Winner's leaving. I would have considered breaking up Heero and Trowa's partnership and regrouping them accordingly, had Milliardo's request for a partner been one of them. Chang was no convenient solution to two problems, as I might have overheard it being said."

She looked my way, but I had uttered no such thing. I may have wondered loudly to myself something along those lines, though.

"In many ways, it was a hard call," Mill said. "Heero Yuy is not a man to treat lightly. You are deadly, focused, tenacious, loyal, and very protective and possessive, as I found out the hard way of several occasions. The safety of your teammates seemed foremost in your mind, which was not at all how I imagined you worked; in fact, of all of you, you were nothing like I had expected. Demanding, yes, but more so of yourself. You were so sure you could make a difference, and then proceeded to do so as if the outcome was never in doubt. But to my surprise, you listened to what the others recommended, Quatre in particular, even when I know you and he had some differences to overcome.

"The number of personal issues you all had to set aside was monumental, and yet you did without skipping a beat, to move on, face the next problem working shoulder to shoulder-- Well, it was a learning experience all around for me. Your example, Yuy, set a standard that I too had to reach for, or lose your respect. Your respect is a highly valuable commodity, Heero Yuy."

"You earned it countless times," Heero said, pausing to smile, "even on this mission."

I punched him for being an asshole and he yanked my braid for the same reason. I heard Quatre clear his throat and say something.

"I wouldn't call Duo immature, ever, Milliardo. If you do, then, you just missed the point of Duo Maxwell."

"Coming to his defense _even now_ Quatre?" Milliardo laughed quietly. "Actually, it took me some time to reconcile Scythe, the Agent Maxwell on file, and Duo Maxwell the man; perhaps I still am. One of your greatest strengths, Duo, is your ability to improvise. You don't needed detailed instructions, you're self motivated, when the parameters change you flex accordingly, and when there is no plan you make one up on the spot. Your sense of humor is disarming, and I know you use it as a protection mechanism to distance others from your more sensitive side.

"Aw, gosh, Mill. Ya figured me out."

"Not completely, but that's not my problem." His eyes slid across to Heero's making the implied connection complete.

"I have one more announcement before surrendering the rest of meeting to Commander Une. I would like to thank Trowa for passing along Duo's concerns following his last phone conversation with the little boy you saved, Jimmy Tulver. You were correct, Duo. Things were not right at his home. The boy's mother had been killed by his kidnappers to cover their mistake. We assumed the uncle's family would take him in. What Duo discovered was that the estranged father returned to reclaim his son, and Jimmy was terrified. After Trowa's concerned call to me, I put an agent on the house."

"What I tell you next, even I have trouble believing happened. This last week, I've been staying in the rental Preventer's arranged for my family. I received a call on my cell. A man, who identified himself as a 'friend' and supplier for Gunter, said he'd had 'trouble' contacting him, but that he'd 'found' my number from the fake website-- that's not been taken down, by the way, Wufei, do that for me. Apparently Gunter had passed on that URL to many folks. I said I would call the man back and hung up. When I checked the number, I was stunned to find it was the same as you were using for Jimmy. I called the agent on site, initiated a sting operation, and, well… Jimmy's father was caught."

"His father!" Quatre cried out. "Was he responsible for his son's first kidnapping?"

"So it seems and the murder of Jimmy's mother. Jimmy had never known the man was his father or we wouldn't have put him in that situation. The good news is—"

"What's going to happen to Jimmy?" I asked, forgoing the 'good news.'

"That's my good news. My wife and I are adopting him. He is at our home now and will be joining us at the beach."

"Oh, how wonderful!" Quatre said. "Isn't it, Duo?"

"Yeah," I said, amazed by the man's generosity. "Lucky kid."

"I think we should keep the website," Wufei said. "Put an agent on it and use it to attract and capture deviants."

Both Une and Mill agreed. "In that case, I will alter the site's contact number immediately to a Preventers' case line," Wufei said, nose to his notebook.

The rest of us pursued the Jimmy-adoption subject, congratulating and commending Mill for his act of remarkable thoughtfulness and compassion. Mill bowed, accepting it all with practiced grace.

"Jimmy understands that he's part of my family now, but I think he's most excited about seeing Duo and Trowa again. I think he wondered why neither of you tried to foster him. I explained as best I could. In Sanc, adoptions aren't permitted for, ah, single young men."

"Um, it's okay, Mill. You can say it out loud, now. I think the commander knows we're gay," I said.

Heero straighten in his chair. "It took counseling for me to say that. All it took was a week of my gentle persuasion to get you to—"

"Gentle!?" I squeaked. "I was kicking and screaming denial all the way!"

"Wasn't all denial, from what could hear," Trowa muttered.

"Trowa!" Quatre shushed him from intimating anything more scandalous.

"If it is any consolation, Duo, I had no idea any of you were sexually attracted to one another. You were professionals at all times in the office. I received no complaints or heard any rumors or coffee-hour gossiping. Well, I did, but it was of a different nature. More of a 'why doesn't Duo ask you out, Hilde?' or 'I wish Trowa would smile more—at me.''' Une folded her hands as if ending the subject. "I feel we have dealt with the sensitive problem of working couples and see no problems arising in the future with the partner arrangements. Was there anything more you wanted to add, Milliardo, before we break for lunch?"

"Only this, and I say this in all honesty, Commander, should you ever wish to start a revolution, we could with just these five men, and win it."

(o)

After a twenty minute break, during which sandwiches and drinks were served, Une returned to her agenda.

"Before I review the mission, I would like to read these." Une shuffled her pile of notes, bringing one page to the top. "I have received many letters from people whose lives you've touched on this mission. I would like to pass on a few messages. Captain Jacques Brel, whose Brussels office conducted the probe with the Preventer's DEA, would like to thank Agent Wufei Chang for his excellent leadership and professionalism throughout their shared sting operation."

Wufei bowed his head in a curt acknowledgment.

"Interesting enough, I received two unintelligible memos from the New Germany field office one regaling and the other denouncing _Wing-Scythe._ I am recommending retraining of the field office personnel following complete mental and physical examinations."

She smiled but did not look up to see our smug expressions of gratitude as she chose the next memo from her stack. "The 'Cipher Squad' sends their sincere thanks to Quatre Winner, Duo Maxwell, and Heero Yuy for providing them job security for many months to come. I presume that's because of the encoded data load you dumped on their department."

"What am I? Flypaper for freaks!?" I uttered without thinking. Always attracting the nutcases!

Someone kicked my foot under the table, but the universal concurrence was in a single shout, "Yes!"

"**Neeext**-- Dr. Dorothy Catalonia would like to thank you for introducing her to Agent Blake Edwards. I don't know the particulars, Agent Chang, but I'd love to hear your side of the story, not now. Sometime when you're not busy. As a side note, Doctor Catalonia has had, of course, no ties to the organization of her grandfather, and was delighted to have played a role in the destruction, the final one this time, of the Romefeller Foundation. She has been estranged from the Dermail relations, and her uncle far-removed, Franz, in particular. There should be no doubts amongst us."

There were none. We'd known of her familial association, but, hey, can't do a thing about who brought you into the world.

"That was my elegant segue into the core of this meeting," Commander Une said. "Franz Dermail very nearly raised an army of terrorists and disrupted the world peace we fought so hard to establish. They were close, but we brought them down. We began with Milliardo's alarming numbers of young, male kidnapping victims on a world-wise scale. Alric Gunter's name appeared on many reports where police had been successful getting informants or the kidnappers to reveal their sources in exchange for lighter sentences. Based on that thin evidence, the house across the street from his 'on the record' residence was secured, and Milliardo mission was approved for staffing.

"When we learned that Franz Dermail's step-brother was Alric Gunter, our Romefeller-Gunter link was established. We needed solid evidence of illegal activity to address the requirements of the justice system.

"We uncovered Gunter's connection to drug transfers using surveillance and acquired corroboration when we secured the 'David' statue. Nine people were arrested in the Brussels sting operation, who were connected to the Royal Fine Art Trading Company, founded by Giacomo Medici, an Italian art dealer convicted in 2004 of dealing in stolen ancient artifacts. These artifacts were later replicated into hollow forms designed for transferring illegal drugs. Agents working under the supervision of Captain Brel discovered the false-copy operation in the basement under the flower store front. The inter-relationship among drug distribution, violence and the ancillary connection to rogue segments of the art-for-trade industry had been documented for many years, but now we had clear proof that Royal Fine Art was a front for an illegal drug distribution enterprise, the kind of proof to stop the operation once and for all.

"A plan was devised and we infiltrated the drug running operation by purchasing our own drug-transfer art work and providing our own escort service. In this way we established a direct link from Gunter to Royal art. The data collected substantiated that the Royal Fine Art Trading Company was the fake art supplier and the destination was in New Germany near Gunter's drug production facility. We also learned that a large portion of the drugs were being diverted to Romefeller holdings, which were army training camps. The drugs were being used to control kidnapped boys in the training facilities. Samples of the drugs being tested revealed strong infusions with pheromones, hormones, and other agents aimed to alter the minds and bodies of young males, making them more conducive to suggestion, outwardly more aggressive, and in time dependent on the drugs for their mental well-being.

"We learned more about the route the boys took from men in the boy-trade to these armies. In one sting, a prominent New Italy parliamentary representative was arrested, Count Franco Giopinno, while attempting to purchase favors for Jimmy Tulver at Gunter's estate. The count was more afraid of outing Gunter than doing time, but he has since confessed and turned over evidence damning Gunter and Royal, which was an unexpected score. Those pictures you discovered, the odd grouping of the count with the Medici family, assisted us greatly, pressuring him to reveal his close personal ties to the incarcerated art stealer/trader Giacomo Medici and affiliations to crime.

"Which brings us to the mystery of Raul Frolich, son of New Germany master art dealer, Franz Frolich. Why Frolich would be snooping around in Gunter's office, when he was an employee and certainly aware that Gunter was capable of cold-blooded murder should he be caught? What was on the disc that was worth the risk of death? Why was he in Italy just when Duo and Quatre are there to purchase and move the illicit drug-transfer art? And later, why did he kidnap Duo? How could he be dead in a shuttle in Italy and very much alive at the Jade Pharmaceuticals dock to attack Duo, twice? These were a few of our questions, and they kept mounting.

"We believe that Raul wanted a larger cut and possibly more or that he might be waiting his chance to cripple Gunter, reduce his arena to the drug production and replace him in the delivery market. Still the facts weren't there to resolve the problems. The tie to Raphael Medici, younger brother or step-brother of Giacomo, did not stand up to scrutiny. Agents eventually uncovered a cleverly disguised false-identity conspiracy. Here is what we learned, though: there were two men, one was Raul Frolich and the other was his brother, Raphael Medici."

"Oh no, not the _twins _excuse!" I moaned.

"Yes. His father hid this fact, leaving a false paper-trail immigration will be busy studying for weeks more. I'd say someone in the government is to blame, but I think they also suspect the Count's involvement. The father is still under investigation, but we believe he used the twins for underhanded uses in the past, as well. The two brothers knew of one another's activities; at least, Raul indicates that is so."

"So do we know which was which?" Mill asked.

"Raul was Gunter's henchman," I began the game.

"Raphael stole the CD," Trowa said.

"That must have been Raphael we ran into in Italy," Quatre said.

"He would not have had any reason to kidnap Duo," Heero put in. "That must have been Raul."

"What reason would Raul have had?" Mill asked.

"Jealousy. Raul was in love with Gunter and had to tolerate Duo dominating the man. Jealousy can drive a man to stupid actions."

"How did you come up with that?" Mill asked.

"When Duo and I returned to the loading dock where he had escaped, Raul was waiting for him. The things he said to Duo…it was clear how he felt."

"So, that was Raul. He's alive."

"Yes," said Une. "We have the fingerprint evidence from Gunter's house which correlates with that of the man we are holding now. From the fingerprints on the recovered CD, we were able to match them with the body aboard the shuttle and Raphael's, pinpointing his activities just as you have said. After a great deal more effort than I should have thought necessary, the shuttle pilot was hunted down and interviewed."

"Apparently, Gunter and Raul met the shuttle, which was carrying Duo and Raphael, in a mid-air plane-to-shuttle transfer. Gunter and Raul boarded the shuttle, Raul taking Duo and Gunter murdering and disposing of Raphael. We don't know why, yet, but we will. Had Gunter evacuated the body to space, this would have been far more difficult to piece together, however, the pilot would not chance a dangerous maneuver like that while in orbit. According to his statement, Gunter made him agree to leave orbit and ditch the body in space before returning to his station. He was not, however, in Gunter's employ beyond taxiing the men back and forth, so, when Gunter departed, the pilot returned to his station with the body. He actually filed an incident report. That it took as long as it did for authorities to communicate that to our operatives is unacceptable and several individuals and procedures are under investigation. eventually, as you know, we recovered the body and confirmed the ID."

"That makes a long report," Mill said.

"No shit," several of us agreed together.

"Yes, and it is not over for those agents still engaged in finishing up the final details. We want all the charges to stick. We must repair the weak links in security and interdepartmental communications. The details associated with tracking down the Romefeller associates, the clients, the buyer, sellers, runner, and government official linked to this will take many more months."

She rubbed the back of her neck, sighed, and finished her glass of water. "I'm passing out a press report Mr. Winner helped put together with the publicity department. FYI."

Her announcement met the Great Wall of Ennui, crashed and burned. Wufei removed his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose as if preparing to say something. He didn't. He took up the paper squinted at the print for about five seconds then gave up pretending he cared, preferring to stare longingly at the door. Heero hadn't moved a muscle for the last minute, so I wondered if he wasn't just sleeping-sitting. Quatre adjusted himself in his chair. He was nearly as restless as I was, while Trowa appeared content not to have to appear interested or have to stir. He yawned as the press release was shoved under his nose. If he was as bored out of his skull as I was, I was betting he'd be asleep in two minutes if this kept up. I'd be a sure second. No, third. Yup, Heero was already napping, chin on his chest, hair hiding his eyes. I nudged him, very, very slightly and caught the barest sparkle of blue directed at me.

"Report FYI," I said.

"Hn."

"Couldn't have said it better."

I picked up the handout and scanned:

"_New Germany Federation Police in a cooperative effort with Preventers agents and customs officials, found 940,000 tablets of a powerful new Ecstasy-based compound worth about $4 billion inside a replica ancient Greek statue in a shipping container imported from New Italy on May 1st._

_The discovery came after an insider tip-off to Brussels police who alerted New Germany earlier in April to the activities of a never-before-heard-of New Germany-based syndicate suspected of shipping narcotics worldwide hidden in giant art pieces. The art work was traced to the Royal Fine Art clearing house in New Italy, and officials mounted a surveillance operation immediately thereafter._

_A representative from the Preventers Peacekeeping Agency, which masterminded the entire operation, said in a series of raids coordinated with the operation in New Italy, the New Germany Federation Police arrested 45 people and searched the premises of Alric Gunter's company, Jade Pharmaceuticals, were the drugs were believed to have been produced. These raids were said to have uncovered proof of substantial drug processing, illegal human experimentation on young men and boys captured, imprisoned, and abused for the purposes of testing the control applications of the drugs. Additionally, links to prostitution rings and the illegal selling and trading of imprisoned boys, and illegal international money transfers have been uncovered. _

_The most serious revelations have been related to the exposure of army training camps built and run by the resurrected Romefeller Foundation. The army built out of the abducted boys, controlled and funded by the illegal drugs. Thousands of boys aged 12 to 25 were rescued and are being returned to their estranged families, where possible, or into Foster homes through their originating local child services organizations._

_Links to high level government officials world wide have been uncovered, which if left unstopped would have threatened our tenuous peace. The ramifications will be felt for years to come, but serves to strengthen—"_

My vision began to blur after that. I didn't even bother to run the numbers for a "lucky" match, and I didn't think Wufei had either. I'd become brain dead from too much meeting crap to remain focused any longer. I think the others were on the same page. So, when the commander's droning came to a close, I was ready to move on. Unfortunately, our commander was not yet done.

"Gentlemen, I'd like to close this meeting with a short discussion period. Let's concentrate on where you will be in one month."

I think even Mill joined us in a group groan. If this was going to end, it would be because Une had lost control. Time for Duo the Dodger to act!

"Me in a month? Well, I gotta get started on my management lingo, like 'Casual Work Atmosphere' means we don't pay enough to expect anyone to dress up in anything but their basic uniforms; well, a couple of the real daring guys wear earrings."

"Plus we get all excited when it is Saturday so we can wear sweats to work," Trowa put in.

He got the idea. Hopefully the others would get on board and storm the meeting and own the day.

"Some Overtime Required," Wufei intoned, eyes closed as if he were performing recitations. "Some time each night and some time each weekend."

"And it's dark when you drive to and from work," Heero said.

Quatre smiled and sat up alert like a nervous squirrel. "I was jotting a few suggestions for you, you know, a few exercises to put the newbies through."

"You aren't serious—" Wufei barked. I was afraid he was going to pummel my bud into his chair to shut him up.

"Beating around the bush, jumping to conclusions, climbing the walls," Quatre began.

_Okay!_

"Swallowing your pride, passing the buck," Mill tossed out.

"Throwing your weight around, dragging your heels, pushing your luck," I added.

"Making mountains out of molehills," Trowa put in.

"Hitting the nail on the head."

"Wading through paperwork."

"Bending over backwards."

"Running around in circles."

"**A-aaand** wrapping it up at the day's end," Commander Une said. "Okay, gentlemen. I get the idea. You are all dismissed. Be back rested and ready to work, and, Quatre, good luck and stop in from time to time to say hello—to me, too."

As we all made a dash for the doors, I couldn't help but notice Quatre's body language. A little sad and possibly disappointed? Trowa led him by the elbow, moving him along as he emitted sighs, lingered at desks to say good bye, and visited with nearly everyone along the path to his desk. His few trinkets were in a box already loaded in the limo waiting to take us all home. Wufei said he'd take care of the rest, the files, the papers, and turn over anything personal he found. Later.

I wanted to tell my bud the secret, but I didn't. Little did he know, but the next day half of the office would be showing up at his beach complex for a surprise Farewell to Quatre Bash, a party planned by and paid for by Mill. It was the least the man could do to make up for all the grief Quatre went through on his mission-- which I think ultimately drove him to leave Preventers. Quatre would be so surprised and thrilled. It was just his kind of thing. He'd planned and put together Wufei and Sally's wedding in less than a week, after all.

(o)

That evening, Heero and I retired early. The next day we would be setting out on our vacation, but I was too keyed up to sleep. I wanted my time with Heero to be special, not muddied by the upcoming events. Seeing Jimmy again, Quatre's farewell party, Quatre and Sally's simply-sweet and short wedding—our important moment would be lost.

"'Ro? I don't wanna wait."

"No?"

"No. Unpack the rings and let's do it now."

"You're sure?"

He knew I was.

"Y—what's this?"

His smile widened as he enclosed one of my hands in his, while reaching out with the other, fisted. "Open."

I kissed the battle-roughened knuckles that no amount of lotion and pampering could heal, and his hand unwrapped. Two rings. One for each of us this time.

"I was about to ask the same of you," he confessed. "I even had the rings in my pocket at the meeting in Une's office today, in case I had a chance to talk to you then."

"So, you'll me my ah… husband… then, er… still…?" I asked. I still stumbled over calling him 'boyfriend,' too.

"Yes," he said, kissing my face, my hands, my fingers, our matching rings.

We slipped the rings over one another's fingers, exchanging few words that included the promise of a future together. As we kissed again, I undressed him. Then he undressed me. We stood under a shower of hot water, our skin barely touching until the water chilled.

"I want you inside me," I told him, and he acquiesced without an argument.

"Tomorrow we reverse," was all he said, and I agreed without a word.

I must have devoured every inch of Heero before the night was through. His tingle permeated me. I marinated in him. He tenderized me from inside and out. By the end of the night I was so liquid he could have drunk me, soul and all, from a bottle.

When he drilled faster, it was as if he were driven by some inner need I could not possibly understand. I felt him grow inside me from granite to tungsten, from large to impossibly large, from hot to searing. The thrusts became deeper, and more staccato. His breathing picked up, too.

Again, though, what I was feeling was different than pain. It was a transcendent focus; it was a rapture of attention. Fire is transfixing. We can stare at its beauty until we are made night-blind by it. And, so, numb also to its feel, I learned. The fire below my skin grew, spread, singing flesh as it surfaced. I was stung by it and its breathtaking intensity.

He held me so closely to his chest I could have become him. My moans were strangled by his theft of my breath.

After making love with my husband, I was still tingly and excited to sleep. We talked. We talked about what had happened and what didn't.

"I knew you'd come for me," I said.

He searched my face a moment, probably trying to figure out what I meant. He chose one meaning and tried it out.

"I'll always come for you, find you, and bring you home. My life would be desolate without you."

"So, you'd ground me now, huh?" I asked, my feelings guarded, uncertain how to react to his need to possess me so entirely.

"If you don't _want_ to be here with me, you can leave any time. If there's ever someone else—"

"There will never be a time when you have to worry about me wanting someone else," I assured him. "You need to hold that close to your heart and give me the space I need sometimes, okay?"

"Yes. This means something important to me, _everything_ to me, just like you do." He held my hand to lips and placed a kiss over my ring.

"You always know the right things to say," I said, sighing sleepily and settling into the crook of his arm.

"That's because I know you. But, you're the one that knows what to say to lighten my load."

"Yeah, that's me… always defying gravity."

"Funny, sexy, husband, mine," he muttered nonsensically.

"Ditto."

That settled, sleep finally came - a most welcome, though shy visitor. I was happy that night as I drifted off, my head resting comfortably on Heero's deltoid as he enfolded me in his arms. No, not just happy, serene. I felt free of everything earthbound and demanding of me, everything not of the moment. It was a new sensation for me and I reveled in it.  
My last thought before I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep was how light-hearted I felt, as if I might never again touch the ground. Forever, defying gravity.

End, It's Back to Work, Chapter Twenty-Six

End, It's Back to Work.

End, Defying Gravity.

The End.

End.

Fin.

(It's hard to go, yanno?) --KS

Thank you for all the lovely reviews. Those of you who have reviewed but left me to email or way to reply, please do one last time. I love your comments and would love to answer you personally. Oh, and one more thing-- I just started part 3, so now I haveta go back and change that beginning where I say its a romance in two parts, don't I? And, well, I should change this ending then, too, which is easier. Here goes:

End, It's Back to Work, Chapter Twenty-Six

End, It's Back to Work.

Next time, which will be a few months so be patient: **Part Three: It's Another Vacation **

Yes, that's a much better way to end this story-- until part 3, then! Also, look for a new story in November, or read it at the Moments of Rapture website (2007 & deadly sins contest available in September.) And thank you for sticking with me. In fact, if you got this far, drop me a note and if you can't think of anything else to say, just write: "I got here!" then I'll know how many folks got to the very, very end.

Oh, okay...I'm rambling, but it is so hard to let go...

Gratefully yours,

Bye.

--KS


	34. It’s Another Vacation Chapter 1

**DEFYING GRAVITY**

A Romance in Three Parts  
Part One: It's a Vacation  
Part Two: It's Back to Work  
**This is new-- Part Three: It's Another Vacation**

Gravity is a law of nature. It holds you to the Earth.  
Grounding you.  
As a kid, a grounding could restrict me to a certain place as a punishment.  
As a pilot, a grounding could prevent me from flying.  
And as an civilian, I never wanted to be your average, well-grounded guy.  
All my life, I have struggled against that force and laughed in the face of laws that compel me to follow them.  
Challenging, disobeying, treating with contempt,  
Duo Maxwell,  
Defying Gravity.

* * *

**DEFYING GRAVITY**

Part Three: It's Another Vacation

**Chapter One**

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Gundam Wing or its characters, nor do I make any monetary profit off this story.  
Warnings: 1x2x1, 3x4x3, AU, yaoi, some language  
--Kaeru Shisho 8/30/2007

* * *

"He looks afraid. I never thought I'd see Wufei Chang's face wearing that terrified expression." Quatre said, his expression winsome as wisps of pale bangs fell into his eyes.

"Quatre can charm the scales off a snake," his eldest sister had once told their father. _But_ w_hat a strange thing to remember now_, he thought to himself. He watched the corner of Trowa's mouth stretch into the barest of smiles.

"He's not yet even nineteen, he's getting married, and is only months away from becoming a father," Trowa said. "I'm surprised he's standing. I wouldn't be, but then you couldn't catch me in that kinda jam."

"Most of my sisters were married before they were our ages, at least five before they were sixteen." Quatre couldn't ignore the implied meaning beneath his boyfriend's words. For a marriage to endure, love should be constant and eternal, but Trowa's love had boundaries. They were running up against them everyday.

"And were they expected to be the primary wage earner and head of the family?" Trowa asked. "Sobering."

"Well, no, and I hope the men they married weren't there for just their money. They were very pretty, too, from their pictures," Quatre added quickly.

"You never saw them as girls then?"

"No, even the youngest was years older than me, although she alone has never married. All my sisters were incubated babies with their births spread over time. The oldest was twenty years my senior, the next were six months later and the sextuplets, a year later." Quatre smiled. "The next ones were a few years delayed."

"I'd think so. That was a houseful to take care of."

"There were nannies, of course," Quatre assured his lover. "I had a lovely nanny." His eyes grew wistful as he thought back to his pleasant youthful upbringing. He'd been thinking a lot about his past, his family, and his home of late.

"I'm glad, but sorry you never had a chance to know your mother. I bet she was an awful lot like you."

"Father always told me I was." He reached over and straightened Trowa's silk tie, one he had chosen for his lover in a green to match his eyes. "There, now you look perfect," he said with a gentle pat to the knot. He looked up to find Trowa's eyes searching his.

"Perfect?" Trowa asked.

"Yes, even if you break out in more freckles from the sun."

"Freckles? Damn, I thought the hair would cover them." Trowa ruffled his long bangs over his face for cover.

"No! Don't do that! I was enjoying the sight of your face."

Trowa swept the hair to the side, but without holding gel it flopped back into its customary place over one eye. Quatre looked past the fall of hair, past the chairs set out in front of an altar, to the red silk fabric flapping in the breeze from the overhanging arbor. The invited guests continued to collect, find seats, and chat in small clumps, avoiding Quatre and Trowa. It was as if a barrier sealed them apart from the festivities. Quatre felt it was real.

"Here comes Heckle and Jeckle to report in," Trowa said.

"Who?"

Heero and Duo sauntered up, hip bouncing off hip, and braid swinging as the pair joined Trowa and Quatre. They wove awkwardly around the folding chairs clustered on the beach Heero's arm was loosely wrapped across Duo's back, fingers tucked into a back pocket, dragging the pants dangerously low on that side. It was hardly noticeable until Duo started waving with both arms as if he were directing the liftoff of a 747, revealing his bare midriff and below.

"Caterers have it all under control," Duo chirped. "Like I said before, relax, Quat."

Duo's effervescence was completely lacking in the other boys, like champagne gone flat. "That's not what you said," Heero reminded him. "You told Trowa to take Quatre inside, screw his brains out, and—"

Quatre felt Trowa step backwards, giving him more space he didn't need. He looked down at the chair his hands gripped for support, anywhere but his friend's faces. As much as he wanted to run, Quatre's feet sank further into the sand, sucked in.

Heero cleared his throat. "Never mind."

Quatre looked askance through his sun-kissed bangs, narrowing his eyes at Heero, who was staring into the distance, and then back to Duo, who was grinning inanely.

"Hey, you were all wound up, Quat-buddy."

"Duo, there are times I'm sorry you discovered sex. I really am," Quatre shook his head seriously and studied his disappearing toes. No need for shoes in the sand, he'd discovered, even with a suit. When he looked up, he saw Relena accompanying Sally Po from one of the beach houses to the edge of the sand.

Heero continued with his observations. "I see Milliardo is keeping Wufei on a short leash."

"Yep." Trowa was watching the women's progress, too. "Everyone's here."

"No one wanted to miss this wedding," Heero said.

"I'm just glad it all worked out," Quatre said with a sigh. "Just getting them to settle on a date was a trial."

"To traditional Chinese, choosing a wedding date is much more complicated than consulting your file-o-fax," Trowa said coldly.

When Heero's sharp gaze cut to Trowa, Quatre realized with a wince that even he could sense that Trowa was being harsher on him than necessary. When an insensitive ass like Heero Yuy noticed the tension, Quatre knew it must be bad. Quatre had hoped it was temporary, part of the UC job they'd all come out of, and not a sign of trouble in paradise, but it was worsening.

They had been on vacation nearly a week already and none of them had begun to unwind from the intense mission. Milliardo had sent in a request for additional leave for them all, including himself. Whatever he had said to Commander Une, he had convinced her to give them two additional weeks off. Quatre didn't know if that was enough. Scratch the surface and he didn't like what was revealed, seething just below the surface of any of them. Maybe they could heal with a little more time.

But he hadn't been given the luxury of time. Quatre had a new job, college, and other preparations to concern him— and to draw him further from his friends. This special event, the first wedding of the five friends, however, was not going to be marred by his particular problems. Quatre vowed to take it all in stride, or at least appear to.

In as cheerful a voice as he could muster, Quatre said, "Don't you know it! Wufei and Sally skipped the family negotiations, since neither had families to consult, and had me confer with an astrological expert to verify their horoscopes were favorable. I really have to thank you again, Duo for explaining Wufei's 'lucky numbers' thing. That solved the date and the menu problem with the caterers."

"His what?" Heero asked.

"Lucky numbers. Apparently, the number of courses is also significant. At a Chinese wedding banquet, eight dishes are usually served – not including the dessert—because in Chinese, the word 'eight' sounds like 'good luck'." Quatre told him.

Heero looked at Quatre as if he were speaking in tongues. "How long have you been out here in the sun, Winner?"

"Heero, talk to Duo. He knows all about Wufei's superstitions. No, wait. I think the ceremony is about to begin."

"Not yet. Relena's still fussing with something in Sally's hair," Trowa corrected.

"Duo, so?" Heero asked.

"Okay," Duo began,"Red is symbolic of joy…" his voice trailed off and his faced darkened, troubled by his loss of concentration.

Quatre hopped in to complete what Duo was trying to say. "And, as you can see, the color red is featured all over, like in the clothing and ritual objects. Relena is acting as Sally's 'good luck woman' by attending the bridal preparations. She's supposed to only speak optimistic thoughts while dressing the bride's hair. Sally isn't real familiar with this stuff and mostly, without a family or clan, it's pretty meaningless."

"So, us being here and doing all this for them is very important to Chang," Heero stated. He rested an arm over Duo's shoulders and pulled him close. "I see."

Duo nodded and leaned into the other man's warmth. Heero bent his head close to his ear for a private word. "Winner is trying too hard to seem 'normal'. His eyes show the strain."

"Yeah? Well, he has pulled off a 'traditional Chinese wedding' theme party in a damned short amount of time."

"I hope he rests now that his obligations are over, because Winner's frenetic activity is getting Barton down."

Duo shrugged. "Trowa will survive, 'Ro. He could lift a finger and help, too, if he cared."

"Watch Relena. It's like she knows what she's doing," Trowa said.

Quatre wondered if he had overheard Heero and Duo's whispered conversation, too. He had not wanted to eavesdrop on Heero and Duo's private talk, but he had, and as much as he loved his friends, he wished they'd mind their own business. He wanted to treasure this last gathering of his friends.

"It's beginning," Quatre announced so that the remaining guests assembled on the beach would take their seats and be quiet.

The boys stood around in a knot and frisked the wedding girls and boys with their eyes. Relena finished helping affix a red silk veil so that it hung from the bridal phoenix crown and covered Sally's face. The bride was wearing a beautiful, ornately ornamented jacket and long skirt, but kicked off the red shoes before stepping into the sand. Dressed in a long gown, red shoes and a red silk sash, the groom knelt at the family altar, while Milliardo placed a cap decorated with cypress leaves on his head.

Relena accompanied Sally on her stroll to the altar. Wufei rose to his feet, turned and watched their progress. When Sally stood beneath the bower of silk, she and her groom bowed to each other. Milliardo offered Wufei a goblet of wine, and he took a sip then passed it to Sally. After the new couple both drank wine from the same goblet, Relena passed first Sally, then Wufei a sweet. They both broke off pieces of sugar molded in the form of a rooster and ate them.

Milliardo stepped forward and announced, "This completes the marriage ceremony. Please join the new husband and wife for the wedding feast."

The legal papers joining the pair had been signed and filed that morning. This part was for tradition and show.

"Kiss the bride!" Duo shouted.

And maybe just to "show him", Wufei gathered Sally in a graceful sweep and placed a romantic kiss on his bride's lips to the cries and cheers of the rapt audience.

(o)

"Oh, man," Duo said for the second time.

"You are drooling on my plate. Move," Heero urged him.

"Roasted suckling pig, shark's fin soup, deep fried crab claws, squab, Peking duck, lobster, vegetables with sea cucumber, and fish. Quatre, you really outdid yourself. How do I choose?"

"Here, I'll fix you a plate. Go sit down." Heero marched down the line of dishes scooping potions of each item on both his and Duo's plates in record time.

Since the last mission, Duo was more scatty than usual. His concentration was shot and his attention span shorter than ever. Sally had assured Heero that it was a result of the excessive drugging and that as soon as everything was flushed from his body he would recover. Not to worry. So Heero worried for both of them since Duo seemed to live in a worry-free dream world, except when it came to making a decision. Sometimes, decisions confounded him.

"For dessert, should I have hot sweet red bean soup and two dumpling-like things that I don't have names for?" Duo asked, hovering over the treat table.

"Sit down and take this plate. Eat."

"I need something to drink."

"Fine. I'll bring you something," Heero said, resigned to playing servant or lose Duo to another food line.

He chose tea for himself and a soda for Duo. "Here. The only soda was 7-Up."

"That's because tea, alcohol, and 7-Up are almost always supplied at a Chinese wedding banquet," Wufei told him. "Offering tea is a sign of respect. Alcohol is served to celebrate the special occasion."

Wufei adroitly sank onto a stretch of blanket nearby a plate of food, which Heero guessed was Sally's. She was explaining dishes to a few of the less experimental guests. Wufei had already taken a turn, and now his missed breakfast had caught up with him, and together the delicious smells, made him ravenous.

"In Chinese, 'going to a dinner banquet' is synonymous to 'going to drink alcohol;' and in Cantonese, 'to go drinking' literally means 'go to a bar.' Just FYO." Wufei downed a glass of amber drink in two chugs. "And 7-Up sounds like 'seven happiness,' since the words for 'up' and 'happiness' are homophones," he finished.

"I suppose all the food here has special symbolism then," Heero said.

"Mostly wishes of happiness, longevity, or fertility," Wufei answered.

"That last one being very unnecessary." Trowa plopped onto a blanket, food in hand.

"What was that, Trowa?" Sally asked as she settled alongside Wufei. Her pregnancy was not yet noticeable unless you knew her well and could tell her thickening waist wasn't from overeating.

"Just ignore him," Quatre said as he found a blanket to fall onto. "How is the soup? The caterers spilled the first batch. I was afraid they'd throw something awful together."

"Stop with the… just **stop**," Trowa moaned, falling backwards and sprawling out. "Stop."

Quatre flushed with embarrassment, stood, and excused himself to "go check on the other guests," leaving his plate of food untouched.

"What the fuck's up your ass tonight?" Duo asked Trowa.

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing, or last night or the night before." Trowa sat up and rose to his feet in a single, graceful movement. "Need a drink."

Yes, Heero thought, paradise was plagued with joy-killers. As he watched two of his friends leave sand trails along separate paths, he considered taking up drinking to kill the pain. No, _dull_ the pain. He wasn't killing anything tonight.

End chapter one.


	35. It’s Another Vacation Chapter 2

**DEFYING GRAVITY**

Part Three: It's Another Vacation

**Chapter Two**

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Gundam Wing or its characters, nor do I make any monetary profit off this story.  
Warnings: 1x2x1, 3x4x3, AU, yaoi, some language.  
--Kaeru Shisho 8/30/2007

* * *

The party after the short ceremony joining Chang Wufei to Sally Po lasted well into the wee hours of the morning. Most of the guests had long since gone home. Quatre had fixed up a house with cots and sleeping bags for the few remaining friends to stay over night-- Hilde, Relena, Dorothy, and their dates-- but they were still partying on the beach, in a quiet way. Milliardo and his wife, Lucrezia Noin, lay flat side by side on their backs on the beach, their baby asleep between them. On second glance, they looked asleep as well. 

Fairy lights strung from volleyball nets provided the only light, besides that of the stars overhead. Duo lay back with his arms behind his head and Heero's head cushioned on his stomach. Quatre and Trowa lounged apart, but with legs intertwined, and Wufei was stretched out in a similar fashion to Duo, cradling Sally's head. Relena, Dorothy, and Hilde were dotted about amongst the shells and other ocean castoffs. Their boyfriends had long washed away to their cots inside on a tide of old-chums talk.

Hilde was still taking occasional swigs from a bottle of champagne. "It's the end of an era."

"What is?" Trowa asked.

"Come on, the Fei-man getting hitched isn't _that_ monumental an event, is it?" Duo asked.

"Of course it is! But not what I meant," Hilde said, waving the bottle in the air and sending up sprays of bubbles. "You guys aren't all going to work together any longer, like ever again."

"Yeah, Quatre, you're a real era-ender," Duo said with a toss of a piece of polished sea glass in the blonde's direction.

"Yay," was his lackluster response.

"Yeah," Hilda muttered into his mass of corn silk hair. She polished off the champagne and kissed Quatre on top of his head. "Trowa gets to live out all kinds of dreams now, like gettin' it on with a college boy."

"_Yours_ maybe, but not mine," Trowa said.

"Trowa!" Quatre cried out sounding truly annoyed.

Hilde continued as if they hadn't started a fight at her feet. "No more undercover work…right?"

"I remember their first time." Dorothy sat up, resting on an elbow.

"You couldn't possibly," Trowa said.

Dorothy kicked him in the shins, missed, and barked Quatre's instead. "Not _that_ first time! Sorry, Quatre, but your boyfriend's got his head in the gutter."

"Not quite—" Trowa was about to get down right dirty until Quatre slammed a hand over his mouth to silence him.

"What are you talking about?" Wufei asked, his voice muffled by roar of the ocean waves.

There was a tinkle of empty bottles as Dorothy shifted closer to Wufei and Sally. "I remember the first mission Une put you guys on. Don't you?"

"Hn."

The single, unconcerned syllable irritated her to death. She repeated, "I am sure you remember that undercover mission we all got mixed up in, Heero. Don't try to deny it."

"Heero, are you awake?" Duo asked him.

"No. Tell Dorothy to forget that mission."

"Dorothy, Heero says to forget… whatever."

"Which mission was that?" Sally asked. "I'm sure I never heard about it."

"Une assigned all five of them to undercover then sent them off on three, or was it four, different missions? Who cares? The funny part was that by mistake they ended up tracking one another to the same place. It was a mess and Une vowed—"

"Ugh," Quatre moaned. "Dear Allah, not that one! What a disaster that was. Commander Une took us all out of UC work from then on, except Duo. It was terrible. Just forget it ever happened."

"It did not happen," Wufei said. "That's all there is to it."

"Oh, my. _Now _I want to hear about it all," Sally said with conspiratorial grin. "Spill, girl."

"Naturally," Wufei groaned. "I was at my worst."

"Okay, correct me if I'm wrong, but as I recall, Wufei was undercover as a museum director dealing in Asian antiquities. He was to contact an assumed illegal importer, secure a transaction, and then catch him with the goods."

"I did that part very, very well," Wufei insisted from his supine position, "until Maxwell got into the picture."

"Which, since Maxwell was your illegal importer, was about what, step one?" Trowa asked. He flashed Wufei a nasty grin and then closed up.

"Hey! I was a smuggler, deep undercover at the time. I had to be at that party. How was I to know you'd be there-- _and_ Trowa?"

"Forget I mentioned shit," Trowa muttered.

"Trowa," Dorothy continued, "was posing as a graduate student in archeology hot on the trail of some not-yet-despoiled temple. _Her_ professor was about to send her abroad to check it out."

"Her? Trowa's a _him;_ take it from me," Sally said.

"What does she mean by that?" Quatre asked.

"She's a doctor, Quatre. You aren't the only one to see his danglies." Dorothy said. "Go on, _you_ explain it Trowa."

"Danglies?" Duo echoed.

Heero ran a hand across hips, between his legs, found, and squeezed Duo's male sex organs. "Those."

"Oh, gross!" Relena spat.

"Oh, very," Heero agreed in a low purr.

"Keep it clean, boys. There are ladies present," Relena said louder.

"Where?" Duo muttered and was rewarded with a hail of little fists.

"Do you all want to hear this story or not?" Dorothy asked.

"NO!" the five boys shouted in unison.

"Sally and Relena said 'yes', so 'yes' it is," Dorothy determined. "So the 'girl grad student role' was Une's idea, not Trowa's."

"Shit, yeah! I was a 'girl' on that job, not by choice either. And… the reason I was at that party was not to hook up with your target, Chang. I was there to spread the word about the new shrine-find and get as many looters as possible interested."

"They were interested, all right," Wufei grumbled, "but not in what you had to _say_."

"Hey, quit looking at him that way!" Quatre said to Relena and Sally. "He was made up, hair and all, but no dress."

"That's right. I do not do drag in dresses. Not me."

"I'm sure you don't, Trowa. Not with hairy legs like those," Dorothy pointed out. "To move on... Heero and Quatre were also on an unrelated-- it was assumed-- assignment to track down men stealing treasures from neglected outposts along the Border States. They were to pose as buyers for antiquities."

"We co-owned an antique shop in a posh part of upper Sanc," Quatre said.

"A stupid cover," Heero said.

"I liked the idea, but…" Quatre began.

"And it was all fine and working well until Maxwell got into the act-- am I not correct?" Wufei asked.

"You have already pointed that out," Duo said. "And as to my defense, all I can say is that after that mission, I, and I _alone,_ was permitted to continue with UC work."

"I got the go-ahead, too," Trowa said. "I didn't."

"That's so Heero could have a partner," Quatre added. "Pull that blanket over Hilde; she's asleep."

"So, what was Duo doing on this mission?" Relena asked. "I'm confused." She chose a blanket of the top of a pile pillowed in a hamper and covered their passed out friend.

Quarter moaned. "Haven't we heard enough of the story now? I remember a better one. The time we cleaned out the lower Eastside of dealers."

"Quatre, quit trying to change the subject," Sally said. "Dorothy, so what happened? I'm _dying_ to find out now."

"But first we need to know about Duo's job," Relena cut in again.

"Why the interest in me?" Duo asked.

"No one's interested in you. She just wants to get the players straight," Dorothy replied.

"I'm not going straight for any girl, even a pretty one like Relena," Duo insisted.

"Shut up," Heero muttered.

Several voices harmonized on a "thank you" and then Dorothy continued. "He had been deep undercover for months, making friends and connections in the area of Trowa's mythical shine on an island in the far south of Japan."

"Ishigaki," Duo said. "Real nice folks there. Spoke a dialect that confused me for awhile."

"That's because all you knew was the trash-talk Japanese from L2," Heero said.

"But I got along okay."

"Half the villagers I dealt with spoke Chinese from mainland China anyway, which was closer than the main island of Japan," Wufei added helpfully.

"But what were you there to do, Duo?" Relena asked.

"I posed as a combination drug marketer-slash-treasure smuggler."

"Oh, God. A pirate," Relena sighed, "I could _so_ see you as that."

"And if this new training thing doesn't work out," Duo said with a wry smile, "maybe I'll look into it."

"No, you won't," Heero told him.

"Over my dead body," Wufei tagged on.

"Can be arranged."

"I don't think so, Duo," Sally said. "Remember I know all your secrets. I am the only one with the power to kill you all."

"I've always been an admirer of yours," said Trowa.

"Suck up!" Duo muttered.

"On with the story!" Relena shouted. Milliardo stirred and Hilde mumbled something and turned over.

"The problem started with the Preventer's information network," Dorothy began.

"It always does…" murmured Wufei.

"Who would imagine that the Preventer's illustrious investigating team got their research results from the same lunatics who concocted the professor and his made up shrine?" Dorothy said.

"Who would have thought to setup a surveillance mission on the wrong house, well, practically," Quatre said.

This was followed by a moment of silence out of respect for the memory of the last near-catastrophic mission.

"So, Duo, you were sent to the fake shrine place? And Trowa was going to go there, too?" Relena asked.

"That's right. See, I had it all worked out: routes, drop points, and at this party I got me a customer, which unfortunately turned out to be Wufei." Duo smiled with the pleasure of having a clear shot at a memory from his past.

"But you didn't recognize Wufei at this party?"

"No, and he didn't recognize me either," Duo said, "or Trowa."

"So all three of you were role playing at the same party and didn't know it?" Sally asked, chuckling.

"Yes," Wufei said, ruefully. "It was only the beginning of the farce."

"How did Heero and Quatre become entangled?" Relena asked.

"Oh, that was later and _all_ Maxwell," Wufei told her.

"Just doing my job as a smuggler, linking up with buyers, and I got a pair of pretty boys looking for action over the internet."

"Had I known it was you, you would have gotten more than you'd expected," Heero said.

"Not likely. I was in denial at the time, remember?" Duo said.

"Too well."

"As I recall, Fei-man, it was you who fouled things up, not me," Duo said.

"I just showed up on your nasty little island a day early. But that wasn't my fault at all. That was scheduling at Preventer's. They said it would work better."

"They were just idiots trying to cram all of you on the same planes to save money. Man, if you'd recognized each other then, before messing up my plans--" Duo said.

Trowa cut him off. "I caught Chang checking me out."

Wufei snorted, then said, "That is a lie."

"Yeah, and not even possible," Trowa said with a half-chuckle. "I got there days before you."

"So, you three met at some party where Duo set you up to steal treasures from a shrine for a museum you represented, and Trowa was there to catch you in the act and arrest you both?" Sally asked her husband.

"Pretty much," Duo answered for him. "I was dangling my bait at the party, about to reel him in, when Trowa, who didn't look like Trowa but like more of a—"

"Drunken tart," Wufei supplied.

"Okay," Duo drawled, "then Trowa the Tart started preaching about the destruction of antiquities."

"At the time, it was more about **self-**preservation than preservation," Trowa said with a dry laugh. "I was being hunted by this guy and had to get him off my tail."

"So you nearly scared Wufei off forever," Duo said.

"Which in hindsight would have been far better than having the charade continue like it did," Wufei said.

"Anyway, as it turned out Wufei and I hooked up at another party and we made a deal to exchange money for smuggled goods for his museum. Unluckily, I already had my antique-shop-twinks, Terry and Rei, aka Quatre and Heero, scheduled to look over the 'shrine', so I had to put Fei off a week."

"Which puts us at back at the office scheduling screw up," Wufei said.

"I'm getting lost here," Relena said. "So both Wufei and the Quatre-Heero group showed up to buy illegal goods from Duo at some not-real-but-looks-real shrine on this island on the same day?"

"Oh yeah, and I was already there, having met Garrett-the-Smuggler, aka Duo, a few days before and was figuring on luring him to this shrine and cuffing him," Trowa said.

"And for that Une thought you needed to be a girl?" Relena asked.

"Not for Duo, but no one knew who was UC or who was doing what," Trowa grumbled. "It was asinine from start to finish. I mean, would I have named myself _Shirley_?"

"No, sweetie, you're more of a 'Cathy' type. Oh, my! That's your sister!" Quatre said with a false-sounding laugh. "I never did get how the 'girl' thing fit in."

"That's because you are gay," Wufei said with a smile. "I could explain, if you'd like?"

"No, thank you," Quatre said. "With more than twenty sisters all married to men, I understand male-female relationships. I meant…"

"Fei knew what you meant. He was just pulling your chain," Duo said.

Trowa asked, "Did we leave out the part about there being only the one hotel on the island? Oh, yeah. And we were all booked there at the same time. How cool was that?"

"Get the picture now? All these sting operations to get the bad guys, who were actually all UC agents?" Duo asked. "Yeah, really, really lame. It was really early in the Preventers history. Had Une let Quatre in on the strategy--"

"It never would have happened," Quatre completed for him.

"So, Duo, how did you know they were all there on the island?" Sally asked.

"They called me; at least, Heero and Quatre did when they arrived—as planned. Then, out of the blue, came Wufei's call."

"Blessed ancestors," Wufei groaned.

"So did they all show up at the same hotel and the place explode?" Relena asked."

"That would have been preferable to the humiliating—"

Quatre interrupted Wufei with, "Dreadful, awful, terrible mess—"

"--Which it became," Wufei completed.

"To keep us all from meeting, sharing information, and figuring Duo out to be a double-dealing crook trying to sell us the same stuff," Heero said, "he made up cover stories to explain our presence."

"Oh yeah," Duo laughed aloud. "It started with this cock-and-bull story about my being drug runner to fund my business during 'dry' times. I added that I had a seriously ruthless drug customer coming in to do business with me, something unexpected but not to be put off. They were to keep their distance from the drug business entirely."

"You told Quatre and me that Mr. Su, who was actually Wufei, was a drug dealer of the worst sort," Heero said. "We were in the hotel pool and this Mr. Su passed by for a moment—then you told us to keep our distance."

"Then I dragged Wufei away and told him the same thing about you guys. It should have worked. You all should have avoided one another like the plague."

"Except that they weren't really a timid museum director and co-owners of an antique business," Sally said. "They were ex-Gundam pilots and Preventers agents."

End chapter two.


	36. It’s Another Vacation Chapter 3

**DEFYING GRAVITY**

Part Three: It's Another Vacation

**Chapter Three**

* * *

"This is the place," the man driving told the men in the back seat. 

He parked to the side of a plain-fronted house, engine running, and leveled his hard-edged gaze on the shuttered windows. His lower jaw appeared to be excessively outsized, caused by the underbite of his lower jaw, the teeth pushed out in front of the upper jaw, giving him a "bull dog" look. A cigarette drooped from the corner of his mouth. He swept a hand over his brush of white-blond hair and cracked his knuckles.

"It might be, if the pilot told us the truth about the man who kidnapped _Scythe_," said the hefty man seated in the backseat. He shifted his small feet as if to get out, but made no move to open the door.

"He did. He knows he's a marked man if he doesn't. And we know the man holding _Scythe_, Herr Gunter, owns this place. What we don't know is if this is where he is hiding the boy," the man with the underbite snapped.

"Or ever did. No telling if the boy he saw was _Scythe_ or not. Too many uncertainties."

"_Scythe_ is distinctive. Not many pretty boys with hair that long."

"Enough bickering, gentlemen," commanded the third occupant of the car. He straightened his back, moving with a stiff military bearing. "There should be signs of the boy inside. If not, I want addresses, numbers, this man, Gunter's, contacts. I want to know where he operates out of—"

"I thought you wanted _Scythe,_" said the man with the small feet.

"Oh, I do," said the distinguished military man. "He took down Herr Sieger's best boy. It took you years to build Dierk, didn't it?"

Sieger raked his fingers through his short-cropped hair and growled, flicking ash over his shirt. "And minutes for that kid with the braid to take it all away."

"Through _Scythe, _we can get to the man I want." He glanced again at the paper in his hand and then tucked it into his dark wool suit pocket. He adjusted his coat, smoothing out the back, before settling into the seat.

"You mean Merquise. And I keep saying I don't know for sure if he was the seller calling himself _Wind_. I told you, I can't be certain, General Stark," Sieger said, jutting out his jaw a fraction further to cover for his insecurity. "I only had that old picture of yours to go by. If only we'd gotten our hands on those surveillance tapes before the cops did."

"Preventer forces," the small footed Mr. Spitze corrected, "Not cops. Had it been the Marrakech police, we would've had them."

"His bearing was that of a prince. I should have arrived earlier," Stark said ruefully. He grunted, dismissing the past. "We are wasting time."

"I'll go to the door, but I believe the house is vacant, General." The driver opened the door, snuffed out his cigarette on the asphalt, and bent, looking into the car and waiting for final instructions.

"Check it out. I'll remain in the car. No reason to get anyone excited by showing my face."

(o)

Duo repositioned Heero's head on his lap and sat back on his elbows. "Yep. So there I was, lying in bed, eating room service, and thinking I'd diverted the crisis, when in the dining room downstairs Trowa had just walked into--"

"I looked up from my magazine and my soup when an attractive young woman entered the dining room," Wufei interrupted him.

"And Wufei's first lightening-quick thought process, almost too fast for memory, involved a series of rapid vignettes," Dorothy said. She could tell a story with dramatic flair. "Which went like: 'We're both alone. Why don't we eat together?' 'I don't want to be mysterious, heh, heh, but I really can't talk about what I'm doing here in Ishigaki.' 'Tell me, why is a beautiful woman like you alone in such an out-of-the-way place?' 'Oh, my dear, I am sorry, it must have been dreadful for you.' 'Don't cry; here's my handkerchief.' 'I do have some _sake_ in my room, or vodka, if you prefer.' There then followed an amber-toned scene, which crumbled and liquefied when, as Wufei followed the hostess past Trowa to a table in another corner, recognition came—"

Wufei frowned deeply. "Trowa's disguise was quite good. He was wearing a very realistic blond wig and heels! I thought: _My God! Her! The one who screamed at the party: 'Despoliation!' and 'Unscrupulous museum directors!'_ I didn't remember her name, but I was unlikely to forget her face. Or her voice."

"Husky and sexy's your thing?" Trowa asked in a soft, sexy voice that was Quatre's thing certainly. Even Heero twisted his neck around to look at him.

"Seeing you shocked me," Wufei went on. "I slopped soup onto the table cloth! I had to hide, so I raised my magazine to block my face, showing all the world that I was a reader of _Spirit Talk _magazine."

"Are you?" Relena asked.

"No! It was handy."

"Then why was it at your table?"

The color rose up Wufei's neck and he coughed. "I must have picked it up on the plane—by mistake, of course. I'm not into New Age propaganda."

"Oh, of course you aren't." Dorothy took up the story telling at that point. "Anyway, unaware that the stir she had caused was anything other than the normal erotic ripple that followed her everywhere and which no longer very much impinged on her conscious attention, Shirley-Trowa-darling took her seat, glanced toward the draped windows with a tiny regret for the lack of a sea view, and answered the hostess's question with, 'Just water, thanks.' And from behind his magazine, Wufei gulped his Tsingtao."

"Dorothy," Sally interrupted. "How do you know this story so well?"

"I was there masquerading as a waitress. And, believe me that was a hard job to get. Me faking a Japanese girl? I was part of Duo's setup."

"Which was why I was relaxing contentedly in my room knowing you were there to see things through smoothly," Duo said, but then he smirked, and so Dorothy pinched his cheek and slapped him lightly.

"Not fair!" she said.

"Whaat is?" Quatre asked in a voice that betrayed his slightly intoxicated state. A glass of champagne was his limit. He'd had one and one half. "This was where we came in, right?"

Heero folded his arms across his chest. "Yeah."

"Just tell the next part, Quatre," Sally urged him.

"Okay. Well, Heero and I arrived about then and _obediently_ waited by the lectern for the hostess to finish with seating Miss Shirley-Trowa. I recall glancing around and remarking at the lack of imagination displayed in the conversion of the large rectangular room from a sorry warehouse to a disappointing restaurant, when Heero gasped."

"I did not. That was you doing the gasping." Heero twisted around, keeping his Duo pillow, but bringing Quatre into view.

Under Heero's brain-crushing gaze, Quatre admitted, "Okay, that was me."

"Yes, it was you. And then you whispered 'Rei!' which was my code name. And I said, 'What _now?_'

'It's _him!_ Behind the magazine!' you said. 'Oh, shit,' I said. 'You're right. Don't look at him!' Then you snapped back, 'I'm _not_ looking at him. Don't _you_ look at him.'" Heero smiled evilly, satisfied that he had nailed the nuances of the conversation perfectly.

"Heero, I was tired, hungry, and shocked to see Mr. Dreadful Drug Dealer, who was actually Wufei, which would have been a shock had I known that, but a more pleasant one," Quatre explained to everyone.

"Thank you," Wufei mumbled.

"See," Quatre went on with a smile in response to Wufei's words, "it was not Wufei, but the man we thought he was-- a man who this Garrett fellow had told us was a dangerous, _notoriously_ dangerous drug dealer. We had no business tangling with drug dealers, real or supposed, and possibly revealing our UC identities and endangering our mission. It was _shocking_."

"I was always the first to recover," Heero said smugly. "So, to go on, I said, 'Well, why wouldn't he eat here? He's staying here, the same as us.' Which, of course, _Terry_ ignored and went on raving, 'But who's he _hiding_ from? Surely _his_ type doesn't actually read _Spirit Talk_?' "'Well, maybe he does,' I said, becoming a little testy at Terry's nervousness. 'He has to read something, doesn't he? And I really doubt there's a Drug Dealer's Digest published anywhere.'" Heero smiled at his joke even if it had been years ago that he'd said it.

"At this point the hostess was approaching with her arms full of menus," Dorothy said. "She led them to a table along the right side wall. Once she had placed Heero, calling himself Rei, and Quatre, who was Terry, the situation was this: Among a scattering of other patrons, Heero and Quatre were a short way into the room, against the right wall. Wufei was midway down the room, one table in from the left wall. Trowa was most of the way down the right side, one table in from the side, one back from the non-view. In this triangle, Trowa and Wufei were seated so as to face one another directly, while Heero and Quatre, opposite one another with the wall beside them, were situated out of Trowa's line of sight but so that Quatre offered Wufei a three-quarter profile and Heero gave him a view of his right ear and the back of his head. Got that? The set up here is very important to get how funny it all was," Dorothy said.

"Here, let me show you with a diagram." She drew a rectangle with a stick in the sand then shuffled about some shells, rocks and other detritus. "Trowa's a stick—"

"Beg your pardon?" he asked eyebrows raised in question.

"Trowa's a stick—" Dorothy said, moving around her beach-flotsam collection.

"Dorothy?" he asked.

"_The_ stick. Wufei… the rock."

"Make him the green glass. He likes green," Quatre said.

"I like green—" Trowa put in.

"Fine. Wufei's the glass and _I'm_ the rock," Dorothy went on arranging her pieces on the sand. "Trowa, you have to be the stick. Heero and Quatre are shells at the clam table."

"Happeeee as little claaams," Duo warbled.

"Shut up," Heero rolled over Duo's full stomach with his heavy head and stopped the flow of music and words. "It was more 'shrimps' at the table, actually."

"I get it! So, Wufei, you were stuck between a rock and a hard place!" Relena started giggling like a school girl.

Wufei pinched the ridge of his nose, his eyes closed, picturing the scene in his mind. "I simply couldn't stand it," he confessed. "Every damn time I peeked over the top of my magazine, there was … and then the name came to me: _Shirley_ from that party-- that was who I thought Trowa was-- across an uncrowded room, facing me. And I dared not let her see me!

"_She would know; she would have to!_ I kept telling myself. I had identified myself to her at that party as a museum curator and director. We had spoken about the Ishigaki shrine rumors and whether or not one really existed; the subject of antiquity theft had come up, had most certainly and emphatically come up, because Duo the Smuggler was there chatting me up like an old friend and Shirley had him pegged as the worst sort. Yes, indeed, the worst! You didn't see him! Black dreadlocks, gold tooth…"

"Large gold earring?" Sally asked with a chuckle.

"Well, a small one—"

"Sounds like a pirate costume my brother might have worn," Relena said.

Duo was laughing. Wufei knew they were teasing him, so he charged forward disregarding their foolishness. If he told the story well, Sally would understand and laugh with him, which would be nice.

"I was absolutely certain that Shirley would see me, and she would immediately know what I was doing on the island. _What could I do?"_ Wufei let out a sigh. "My main course hadn't even arrived yet! To get up and flee the restaurant would merely call attention to myself, but to sit directly in that woman's line of sight was simply not possible. I couldn't hold _Spirit Talk_ up in front of my face indefinitely, could I?

"I stole a look over the magazine's top, to see that she was holding the large menu up in front of herself much as I was holding _Spirit Talk_. I knew then that if I were to do anything, improve the situation in any way, it would have to be at that moment.

"I remember thinking: _What if I were to face in the opposite direction?_ But to stand, walk around the table, move everything with me to the opposite side, all of that would also attract too much attention. Besides, there wasn't even a chair over there. The only other chair as the table was to my left.

"_Well, a partial move would certainly help_, I decided. Quickly but smoothly, while Shirley continued to study the menu, I slid from my chair and, without rising, made it into the chair to my left. I drew the soup, the silverware, the bread plate and the glasses over with me, and laid the magazine on the table to the right of my setting. In reading the magazine now, my head would quite naturally be averted from this terrible Shirley woman. In the dim lighting, and at this distance, I felt that she was most unlikely to recognize me. Feeling much better, I looked up, and found myself staring directly into the eyes of one of Duo's drug dealers!"

Sally laughed and hiccupped.

"Remember, Duo, or Garrett as I knew him, had told me, had _pointed_ them out to me at a distance and told me, that they were _dangerous _drug dealers. I had already caught a glimpse of them checking me out around the pool, and I thought I'd successfully avoided them. But there they were!" Wufei moaned. "That was a terrible moment. It still hurts to remember… the stupidity."

"At this point I switched off with another waitress so I could ask Trowa-Shirley if she were ready to order, and she said _yes_," Dorothy said.

Heero started to laugh. "Oh, I remember this part!"

"Oh, shut up, Heero," Quatre said in disgust.

Heero said, "Terry said to me: '_He's staring at me_!' There were these little white rings showing under your eyes, and you spoke in a harsh whisper, not moving your lips. '_My God, Ra-ay, he moved around at the table so he could stare at me_.'"

"And I," said Wufei, "seeing one of the drug dealers _glare_ at me while muttering to his partner without moving his lips, gazed unseeing at _Spirit Talk_."

Trowa spoke up. "I think I ordered the shrimp cocktail and the chicken parmigiana."

Heero snorted. "I pretended to be suddenly interested in the non-view, curtained-off windows at the far end of the room, while swiveling my eyes to look at Mr. Su, Wufei, who was reading his magazine and not staring at _anybody_ at all."

"Very descriptive story telling, 'Ro," Duo put in so they knew he was still awake.

"As cool as you think you were, Heero," Quatre said. "Your mouth gave you away when it curled in the expression of contempt you were about to show _me_."

"And _that's_ when I looked up," Wufei said, "and both you and Heero were glaring at me, _grimacing_ at me!"

"I think I ordered a glass of white wine as well. But no more; I'd had too much to drink, really, at lunch, as I recall, with Duo. He was a perfect gentleman, too. No flirting. Obviously, gay. I knew it then," Trowa said chuckling.

"I was the laaast to know," Duo drawled. "I'm still not suuure. Ouch!"

"That was for that stupid remark," Heero said, releasing his grip on Duo's braid.

Dorothy poked at both of them with a stick of driftwood. "Stop the hanky-panky while I'm telling this story! Now, where were we…? Oh, yes, when I asked Wufei if he were done with his soup, I interposed myself between him and the table containing Heero and Quatre. You barked at me, Wufei. You asked if I could hurry the duckling because you had to leave soon." Dorothy's left eyebrow twitched.

"Your waitressing skills were lacking, as I recall," Wufei said with an eye to the nervous twitch. "Not that I'm one to complain, but you could have just smiled and told me that you'd do what you could, but… no, you told me that _the chef was working on it, and that one really couldn't hurry a duckling_."

"The _foul_ thing," Duo whispered under his breath and cracking up. "Get it? _Fowl_ thing?"

Dorothy drew her eyebrows together, ending the twitch, and bit back a scathing remark of her own. "I'll keep that in mind for the _next_ time you and I work together, Chang."

"Don't forget, woman, that it was I who hooked you up with your current man," Wufei reminded her.

She smiled wide. "Hmm, that's right."

End chapter three.


	37. It’s Another Vacation Chapter 4

**DEFYING GRAVITY**

Part Three: It's Another Vacation

**Chapter Four**

* * *

"In the meantime," Heero said, enjoying himself. "Quatre and I just sat there and stared at one another a moment, thinking over Wufei's dicey chair move and tendency to stare at Quatre. I told him, '_It doesn't mean a thing, Terry_.' 

"And you flipped out from that point on. '_Ra-ay_,' and, yes, you said it like that, '_Ra-ay, he moved! He was sitting the other way, and he moved around that way so he could stare at me! He __**knows**_' That is what Quatre said, I swear to God," Heero said. "So I told him, '_For fuck's sake, Terry, what does he know?'_"

"'_He saw us looking at him_,' you said, '_when he was out by the pool with Garrett_.' Garrett was Duo and at no time did I recognize him or his voice. Duo, you could be an actor," Heero said.

"Thanks."

Heero kissed Duo's palm. "I pointed out to Quatre that it _was_ a public place and that when we went for our swim he was _still_ hanging around and he didn't act like anything was wrong _then_."

"But Heero!" Quatre put in for his defense. "Okay, remember, it wasn't Wufei sitting there, not to us! It was this dangerous criminal… _brute_ and it was not at all part of our job to get involved in Garrett's drug trade schemes."

"Not officially," Heero corrected. "And that's exactly what you said then, too, except for Wufei's name. I think you called him--"

"Zhang Long Su," Wufei supplied.

"I saw Quatre lean way forward and heard him say: '_Ra-ay, Why did he move?_'" Dorothy said.

"I did not," Quatre said petulantly.

Wufei said, "Well, what _I_ saw was the one drug dealer leaning forward to speak tensely and grimly to the other one. I wondered if you talking about me. _Such decadent creatures, reeking of crime and unholy knowledge._ _Drug dealers tended to be addicts themselves, didn't they?_ You weren't like OZ creatures at all, you were like the criminals in recent Sanc Kingdom films; civilized in a sneering way, secure in your power, spouting philosophy, utterly cold and emotionless. Well, not entirely emotionless. You two were holding hands, on and off. At the time I wholeheartedly wished that I had waited, oh, just a minute or two after you arrived so as not to call attention to myself, and then just hurried back to my room and avoided the _next _excruciating scene."

"Sounds pretty chummy," Trowa commented.

"Well, as _your_ waitress left, Wufei, _I_ was still with Heero and Quatre. I asked if they were ready to order," Dorothy said. "I didn't think _Terry_ looked well, though. What he said was: '_I don't think I can eat_.' So, I recommended that he take some Lomotil. You really were unwell, weren't you, Quatre?"

Quatre gave Dorothy a withering look. "Yes." He gave Heero a meaningful look and said, "I wasn't feeling well and all Heero could say was: '_Terry, don't call attention to yourself._'"

"Poor baby," Relena offered sympathetically. Quatre responded with a curt sniff and a shrug. "Really, Quatre. I mean it."

"So, Heero ordered the two of you a Trader Vic's Original Mai Tai, with 17-year old J. Wray & Nephew Rum over shaved ice. Very precise, Heero." Dorothy and Heero traded self-satisfied smiles.

"I didn't say I wanted that either," Quatre said. "I didn't drink."

"Did you ask for fresh mint?" Trowa asked. "It's important."

Heero closed his eyes. "I may have added something about mint."

"You did and I told you that I didn't think the drink would help him,'" Dorothy said. "You didn't listen, of course."

"Well, while you were drinking up a storm, I was at a loss for _what_ to do," Wufei commented. "I turned my head, gazed this way and that, and found myself staring directly into the eyes of the frightful Shirley woman. A small involuntary moan escaped me in a moment of weakness, I admit."

"Ours eyes met and I remember now thinking, '_I know that man!_'" Trowa said. "I thought, '_Isn't that odd; the short time I've been here, and I've already seen two men I think I've met before._ First the driver of that pickup truck outside the hotel, which was Duo, but I knew him as Garrett, and now this man, which was Wufei, who I had been introduced to as Su-something at a party weeks before. I tried telling myself that it was probably just that people look like other people; or maybe this man was on the same plane coming down, though I didn't seem to remember him from then. I just sat there staring at Wufei trying to place his face."

"_I'm going to die._ That's what I told myself," Wufei said. "And oddly enough, the thought was not entirely unpleasant. I must have tucked into three or four Tsingtao's by that time. I just stared at a page in _Spirit Talk_ and drank."

"I ordered food for myself and Quatre, who had been unable to concentrate on the menu. '_You know you like shrimp_,' I told him, after the waitress departed. But he insisted he was too delicate: '_I won't taste a thing_.'"

"Well, I _couldn't_, you know," Quatre said wearily just thinking about it.

"Too bad. Food was pretty good," Trowa said. "I was feeling okay. In fact, I remember pulling some book out of my purse-- handy things, purses. Let's see, I think it was a paperback edition of _How to Get Rich in Antiquities_ by Phil Taub, and began to read chapter 13, 'Thieves and Thugs; A Prelude to Disaster.'"

"How _apropos_," Wufei sneered.

"I gulpedmy Mai Tai," Quatre said.

"As one waitress brought Shirley-Trowa her shrimp cocktail and glass of wine, I brought Wufei his duckling. '_And a glass of red wine_,' he said. '_No, wait! Never mind_.' It was all very confusing," Dorothy said.

"I dared not get any more intoxicated than I already was," Wufei said, "and I thought mixing beer and wine would make things far worse than they were."

"I had no such compulsions, never having touched a mixed drink before in my life, so I gulped Heero's Mai Tai next," Quatre said with a deep sigh, "and then he said in the most endearing way that Heero has-- you all know what I mean-- '_Terry, get a hold of yourself_.' He actually _said_ that to me!"

"Very touching, but what did you expect? It was Yuy. On the other hand, do you know what that boyfriend of _yours_ did next, Winner? Did you _see_ him? No," Wufei said, "I guess you couldn't from where you were sitting. Well, while reading her book, Trowa-Shirley ate her shrimp cocktail _with her fingers_, licking her fingers after each shrimp. Two businessmen at a nearby table watched her intently; all talk of tractor tires forgotten, I can tell you. Meanwhile, I tried to call the waitress over for another drink without attracting attention to myself."

Dorothy explained, "I was busy bringing two more Mai Tai's to Heero and Quatre. When I asked Quatre if he was feeling any better, he said…"

"_'Not yet'_," Quatre said. "I remember _that_ very clearly."

"We waitresses passed one another, and the other one said to me, '_Some really weird ones tonight_,' to which I could only agree, '_Mm_-_mm,' _because I had no time to talk. Seeing Wufei's hand waving discreetly next to his ear, I veered away in that direction.

"'_On second thought_,' he said, '_I believe I'll have another Tsingtao. No, wait a minute; make it vodka on the rocks_.'"

Wufei groaned and threw his head back, staring up at the stars. "A very bad combination. Teenagers should not drink."

"We're still teenagers," Trowa said.

"Speak for yourself!" Sally laughed and elbowed Dorothy. "Go on…"

"'_Water on the side?_' I offered. I was afraid he was just thirsty and I didn't want another sick drunk at one of my tables. Remember," Dorothy said, "I didn't know that these people were Wufei, Trowa, Heero, and Quatre. I'm using their names now just to make it easier to understand, but to me they were this flat-chested, tall woman, a nervous Asian man with shaggy hair-"

"It was a wig," Wufei put in. "And the 'nerve' thing was part of my act, mostly."

"Of course. We didn't think otherwise," Sally told him and kissing him to silence.

"And glasses. He wore his gold wire-rims, which I'd never seen him wear before," Dorothy said. "And at the other table, sitting together was this cute, gay couple. One boy with long dyed red hair and the other with really long brown, and both wearing tinted shades. Very cute, all of you," Dorothy said.

"Yes."

"What?" Trowa looked around.

"Yes," answered Wufei. "I said I'd have the water."

"Well, at the time I thought maybe you were bribing the waitress," Quatre said.

"What you said was: '_They're awfully chummy over there. He's bribing her._' " Heero leaned forward. "Three Mai Tai's on an empty stomach had turned Winner's eyes into cocktail onions. Still, there was nothing I could do but play along, so I asked, '_Bribe her to do what?_' and he answered me, '_**Poison us!**_' "

"Heero, _please_." Quatre rolled over burying his face in his arms.

"No, that's more like what I said to _you_," Heero said. "_'Terry, please_.'"

"While you were all drinking like fish, I finished my last shrimp," Trowa said triumphantly.

"Yes, I watched you," Wufei said. "For the last shrimp, the tease inserted a finger into her mouth, pursed her lips around it, and drew the finger slowly out, freed of red sauce."

"You were so nervous, Wufei," Dorothy said, "that you crunched your little duckling's bones, eating the wings entirely."

"I remember pointing that out," Quatre said. "_'He's eating __**bones**_.'"

"And I remember saying, '_Terry, stopping looking at him_.' You just sat there and blinked at me."

"I wanted your Mai Tai, Heero, but you kept holding it," Quatre explained.

Heero said, "I knew that if I gave you the chance, you'd drink it all. Then you just floored me when you said that Su, Wufei, looked like Freddie Baloch, who I recalled was your reading group buddy. I told you that he did not, although I didn't turn around to look. I mean, Quatre, Freddie was about fifty and Pakistani."

"I thought he could be Pakistani," Quatre said. "So, I said so. And you just said, '_Terry_,' like it tasted bad."

"Quatre, you starting spouting all this nonsense about Freddie Baloch not always being fifty, comparing our situation to _The Godfather_, and going on about the bad guys _almost_ looking like normal people, but that they had _dead eyes_ because their souls were _so_ black."

"Well," Quatre said, "it was true."

"About that time, I must've looked up from my book and remembered where I'd seen that Su dude before," Trowa said.

"Oh, yes, I remember looking off toward you only to discover you staring directly back at me, wide-eyed. '_She's recognized me!_' I just knew it!" Wufei said. "So, I tried hunching down, shielding my face with my shoulder and arm, and eating frantically, hurriedly gnawing at my dinner, trying to finish it and get out of there."

"You ate like an animal," Quatre said. "I said that, didn't I? Yes, I did because I remember you telling me in that patronizing tone of voice of yours --which really annoys me, Heero-- '_Terry, will you please eat your nice shrimps, and stop looking at that man?_'"

"And _I_ wasn't even worrying about _you_ freaks at the time because of Shirley. For some damned reason, probably some kind of built-in self-preservation, I convinced myself that maybe she wasn't _absolutely_ sure it was me. If I could just get out of there-- I picked up my fresh vodka and drained half."

"Ah, well, it all came back to me in a rush of mortification, I have to say," Trowa said. "I'd had a little bit too much to drink at that party, which had been weeks before this happened, and gone on about stolen antiquities. Of course it was a problem; I knew I could go overboard as this Shirley character. Undercover work was not my thing, and as Shirley I could very easily become a bore on the subject of smuggling, and loud as well. Particularly at parties." Trowa smiled at that. "See? I'm talking too much already."

"Go on," Quatre urged him. "It's a treat to hear your voice for a change."

Trowa laughed at that, but with a little more encouragement, went on. "I could always tell when I was behaving badly in that fashion; men walked away from me. In the normal course of events, men walked toward me, but that night at that party, men were definitely moving away. Why, that poor man had probably thought I was accusing him of stealing treasures!"

"Yes, I did," Wufei said.

"I remember that party. God, you were awful," Duo said. "I was tempted to kill."

"Thanks for holding back," Trowa said. "Anyway, I hoped Chang there, or Su I guess he was, didn't recognize me."

"I think about that time I ordered another drink," Quatre said. "You all must realize that I had never had more than half a beer before in my life!"

"I didn't then," Heero said. "I thought you were a lush."

Quatre shouted, "Hit him for me, Duo. Hard!"

Dorothy smiled and said, "Well, Quatre, you're right. You ordered another. And I clearly overheard you partner say, '_Terry, are you crazy_?'"

"My chicken must have arrived about then. I ducked my head to eat it, hoping the Su dude was too absorbed in his magazine to look around and recognize me," Trowa said, looking at Wufei and smiling broadly.

"That's when I waved down a waitress—"

"The wrong one," Dorothy put in.

"And asked for my check," Wufei said. "And that damned woman kept spewing out lists of further possibilities: '_No dessert? We have ice cream, cheesecake_—' while I kept insisting, '_No, please, just the check_.' '_No coffee?' _she continued to press me. _'Check!'_ I had to shout before she finally gave in. Most annoying and she wasted precious time I needed to make a safe getaway."

"I wanted to… No, I _needed_ to leave," Quatre said. "I asked Rei to give me the room key. '_Why?_' he asked me; he had the _gall_ to ask me! And I was feeling so sick and tired of everything going on and Heero's insensitive attitude that I just told him: '_Because I'm going to throw up_.' And do you know what he _said_ to me? Heero said, and just like this, tone and words and all: '_Terry, you're just too emotional.'"_

Quatre smiled grimly. "The room was awash in powerful emotions, triggering my empathic nerves, my stomach was awash in alcohol, and Mr. Sensitivity was sitting there smug as can be. Not a concern on his mind. That's when I knew that Heero and I could _never_ be partners again. We just simply didn't click."

Heero shook his head. "I thought we were getting along great. Shows how dense I must have been back then."

"Yeah, you're much different now," Quatre said. "Thanks to Duo's… ah… influence and all."

They all laughed at what Quatre delicately said, and didn't say.

"I didn't want to just leave you there to deal with the treacherous drug trader, but I was about to be very sick."

"It was okay, Winner," Heero told him. "Even without a gun I trusted my hand-to-hand combat skills."

"Oh, ho, but not I," Wufei said. "I sat there blinking as I watched one of the unholy drug dealers leave the restaurant and the other one stay. '_It's a pincer movement_,' I thought. '_One is in front of me now, and the other behind me._' Honestly, my inebriated mind filled with visions of what might happen when I opened my room door that rivaled the worst I'd seen in an OZ prison, and of course I was unarmed, as Preventers would have it. From Rei's body type I assumed he was trained in martial arts and from his musculature I pegged him to be very fit."

"You sure spent a lot of time checking out Heero's body, 'Fei," Duo said with a chuckle.

"That was part of my training, Maxwell, not a perverted preference. I kept asking myself why hadn't I asked for my check earlier, or just simply left the restaurant at the beginning, no matter what anyone thought."

"Speaking of perverted," Trowa inserted. "I was interrupted from my book by one of those tracto-tire salesmen hanging over me with a smarmy smile. '_Miss, my friend and I were wondering if we could buy you an after-dinner drink?_' he asked. I looked up and noticed Chang ask for his check, and knew my ordeal would soon be over, so I turned down the drink offer."

"Was that the _only_ reason?" Quatre asked.

"Man, Tro-babe, you know how to work the odds," Duo said jokingly. "Not only does your boyfriend haveta worry about other boys chasing you, but men thinking you're a woman, too. You gotta'em after you whether you're a slob, a rent-boy, or in drag! Quatre, you must have to tie him up to keep him at home, huh?"

"In a manner of speaking," Quatre said slyly.

Heero and Trowa started laughing. "Huh? What am I missing here?" Duo asked.

"Trowa's experienced with ropes," Quatre said, "and whips. He's found all kinds of practical applications for his circus skills, at work and at home."

Duo stared, eyes narrowing. "Don't pull that crap on me, Quat-boy. You turned green walking into that S&M shop that one time. We were tracking a dealer on the job so don't give me any weird looks, Trowa, or you either, 'Ro."

"I wasn't," Heero said.

"Well, that was then," Quatre said airily.

End chapter four


	38. It’s Another Vacation Chapter 5

**DEFYING GRAVITY**

Part Three: It's Another Vacation

**Chapter Five**

* * *

Dorothy fanned her neck. "You guys are giving me all kinds of ideas and my man is over there, flat out asleep. As a result, I shall return this conversation back to the stupid story it was. Ahem! All right. So, I brought Terry his last Mai Tai, and looked at the empty chair. '_I knew these things wouldn't help_,' I said. And Heero smiled and told me it was all right. That I should just leave the drink and he'd find something to do with it. When I asked him if his friend would be back, he said, '_I trust not._' I thought you were a very cold, cold man, Heero, to show so little concern for you partner. Why, he barely touched his little shrimps! And when I so politely asked if I could put them in a bag for you, you said--"

"_'Good God, no._' I remember," said Heero. "Think about it now. If he didn't want them when they were hot, why do you think he'd want them later, cold and smelling up the room?"

"That wasn't the only thing that smelled funny," Wufei said. "I signed my check, but didn't know what to do next. I couldn't go to the room unarmed. Once there, though, if I found it empty, I'd just lock myself in for the night. And I would have stayed in the room until Garrett came to pick me up the next day to take me to the shrine. I knew that I never should have involved myself with a man like that in the first place." Wufei stared at Duo a moment as if he were the devil himself or somehow on a first-name basis with him. "So, I got up and left."

"Man, I was so pleased to see you get up to leave I almost changed my mind and said yes to the tractor-tire salesman after all," Trowa said, grinning.

"You should have seen the look on your face," Heero said to Wufei. "I watched you go by and noticed the grim set to your jaw, a real mobster's." Heero and Wufei traded smirks, Wufei's being the more arrogant and Heero's being only one hair this side of a sneer.

"After that," Heero said, "I was sure you did suspect something, and you'd moved to that other chair to warn us to mind our own business."

"You decided that _then_?" Quatre cried out. "After _all_ I'd said. All I'd _said_? My _proof_?"

"Proof, what proof? You got sick to your stomach!" Heero said.

"He's empathic, 'Ro, it happens when he senses stuff about people, ya know?" Duo said.

"I do _now_. I didn't then," he said with an accompanying shrug.

"Where _were_ you when he suffered from his 'space heart' episodes?" Wufei asked.

"Oh," Heero said, his face coloring and eyes aglow from enlightenment. "So that's what that was about."

Amid the groans and moans, Dorothy clamored for a return to quiet so she could put the story to bed, and herself, too.

"Well, we certainly would mind our own business after all that, wouldn't we?" Quatre said. "The next morning Heero and I got on the plane and left the place."

"I felt Yuy's damn eyes burning into my back as I left the room," Wufei said. "Should have made me think. Who else has a glare like Yuy's?"

"I think I asked for tropical fruit for desert," Trowa said, yawning wide.

"I was in no hurry to leave," Heero said, "since Chang had gone, and knowing that Winner would have disgustingly passed out in the room by then, so I dawdled over the final Mai Tai, but eventually signed the check and left."

"And now, so should I." Dorothy rose to her feet with the help of Trowa's strong arms. "I am so glad to be in charge of the labs, now, and away from the field work. Oh, thank you, dear. You were so polite back then, too, Mr. Barton. You thanked me and told me you'd had a lovely dinner."

"Don't forget the fat tip," Trowa smiled. "So, we be cool now? I'll get my rest results back faster from now on?" he asked.

"Don't push your luck."

"But what about the mission? What happened?" Sally asked.

Wufei groaned and Trowa laughed. "Chang tried to arrest Maxwell, who in turned tried to arrest him and they got into a fight, off came the wigs, and things sorted themselves out after that. He can give you the details in the morning. 'Nite, Mrs. Chang."

(o)

Herr Sieger straightened his collar and rang the doorbell. He wasn't expecting an answer and didn't get one. He peered through the picture window, attempting to see through the gap in the shutters, but seeing nothing, decided no one was at home and took a walk around the house. He returned to the front walk minutes later then approached the car.

"Nobody home. No cars. Been empty a while."

Herr Spitze grunted with the effort of climbing out of the car. "Then we do it the hard way." He waited while Sieger opened the trunk, and then hauled out a worn, black leather tool bag. The two men circled around to the side, disappearing to the back of the house. General Sparks remained in the car, watching for the possible arrival of Gunter or any other inmate of the house. He checked his wristwatch, and noticed that it was time for a manicure. A car drove down the street, slowing as it passed, but turned the corner at the end of the block.

Half and hour later, Spitze and Sieger returned to the car, the bag noticeably heavier, unable to close properly at the top. Sieger dumped it onto the floor of the car and fell in with a groan, arranging the bag between his undersized feet. Sieger ground his teeth, lit up a cigarette, and settled into the driver's seat.

"What have you got for me, _Herr _Spitze?"

"Nothing too easy, I have ta say. The place was bugged all over, but not live, so who was ever listening in isn't any more. I pulled some files off a computer. But the most promising find, was this appointment/contact book. Says here… Ra-ul somebody. Under the sofa cushion."

General Starks nodded and waved for the other man to handover the tiny book. "Phone numbers without names. Just a moment, don't drive away yet. Here's an address right across the street and a phone number. _Wind_, it says."

"Bingo!"

"You want that we check out the other place?" Mr. Sieger asked.

"Yes."

Spitze dumped the materials removed from the Gunter house from the bag, and with a grunt exited the back seat of the car with his bag of tools. He took his turn at the door to the house across the street. As before, no one answered the bell. He shook his head, indicating that no one was home. Sieger joined him and they took a jaunt around to the back of this new house.

General Starks waited. He could be a patient man. He flipped through the address book and glanced at his watch. He watched for cars pulling up, but the two that drove by, drove on. No nosy neighbors. _Where had Merquise been hiding himself,_ he wondered?

Starks no longer wanted to count the years that had passed since he had disappeared, taken on another identity, and built up a new empire, which was been threatened by this new Preventers organization. And to think Zechs Merquise had done the same thing? Even into the boy trade? _My, how the mighty have fallen,_ he thought ruefully.

"Damn but whoever was in this place had the money to spend on high class shit. I'll bet this was Gunter's place and he was spying on that other house with your _Wind_ and his boys. This little piece of equipment has memory attached. All I have to do is get the proper interface and we'll be recovering its last data flow." Spitze grinned and showed General Starks a notepad with two phone numbers printed neatly in the center. "I got the house numbers for both places. Run a few numbers through the phone company records. Don't you worry. We'll find _Scythe_, and his handler, too."

Sieger jerked his head around from the front seat. "Don't promise something like that. There's no guarantee any of this crap will get us anywhere."

"Further than you have gotten identifying those Arabs hustling _Scythe_ out of the hall," Spitze lashed out, crossly. No one would belittle his data collection abilities. He was big and brawny, but he was clever, too, and he'd prove it to this data-hungry, results-driven, General Starks.

(o)

"It is time to move on." Wufei rose unsteadily. "Come, wife. The honeymoon begins now."

Sally took his arm and their blanket and together they hobbled to the other side of the volleyball net where it was dark. Wufei swayed. Sally tossed the blanket over the sand and stretched it out moments before Wufei collapsed to his knees.

"Far enough," he said then fell face forward onto the sand, missing the blanket completely.

"How romantic," Heero said flatly, to everyone's amusement.

"I'm turning in," Trowa announced as he stood.

"Good idea, while you can still walk," Heero agreed.

"What you say?"

"Hn. Duo, you coming?"

"Yeah, inna minute. I'm gonna help Quat shut things down."

Quatre turned to Duo. "You don't have to do that, but thanks."

He hadn't much to do, really, not with all the paid help doing their jobs. Still, he rushed to thank the caterers personally, whom he had allowed the use of his facilities for preparation and cleaning up, because he was a Winner and generosity was a Winner trademark. He was grateful Duo helped Sally and him cart Wufei to their cottage, then instead of walking the short distance to his own place, he was surprised when Duo took him by the elbow and led him back out to the boardwalk. They walked and talked, settling finally on edge near where the wedding altar had been.

"You still haven't told me what's the problem," Duo pressed. "And, bud, don't tell me there ain't a problem. Zechs got us an extra two weeks off so you and Trowa have time to fix things, right?"

Quatre smiled and looked away. "I suppose."

"You don't have college right away, do ya?"

"No."

"Then what?"

Quatre shook his head. "It's the family business. They want me to get right down to work."

"Heh, heh… that all? Hell, Quat, you put'em off for years, what's a couple weeks?"

"I have a lot to learn in order to be productive, Duo. I'll be working part time while in college, and to do that I need training."

"And?"

"And I have only a couple months to squeeze in some intensive sessions before I have to get back for classes."

"Get back? Get back from where? Oh, no…you aren't leaving?"

Quatre nodded. "I leave next week to corporate headquarters."

"On L4."

"Yes, on L4."

"And Trowa?"

"He's…not, obviously. He's got his job."

"He could travel with you. Stay on L4 with you over the rest of his vacation, that's two weeks," Duo said.

Quatre rolled then unrolled the edge of his shirttails with the palm of his hand. "It's best he not."

"The hell it is!" Duo blurted out. "I've never seen him so angry and depressed. Didn't you invite him?"

"No."

"Are you insane? You should be screwing in bed every chance you get after that last mission. Show him your estate on L4. Give him the colony tour. Take him to meet the family. Oh-oh… problemo?"

"You might say that," Quatre wasn't certain if he wanted to explain the differences in culture that night.

"I got all night," Duo told him, making up his mind.

"It's complicated."

"Probably not. What is it, your sisters not like tall, good-looking boys from L3?"

"Oh, I'm sure they'd like Trowa, just…"

"Just…?" Duo's eyes widened. "Is this a gay thing?"

Quatre nodded. "Yes. L4 culture is based on that of Arab society on Earth, to a point. Homosexuality for Arabs contradicts and even undermines the male, patriarchal image as 'macho' in Arab societies. Once you decide to explore your identity beyond sexual activity, once you decide to reject your patriarchal role... that is when you get in trouble."

"I do not follow you, bud. I know guys do guys there. You got your first experiences there."

"Just because you sleep with a member of the same sex does not mean you are gay... it just means that you are engaging in homosexual activity. Once a relationship develops beyond sex—that is, 'love'-- this is when the term 'gay' applies."

"You're telling me that the gay guys on L4 limit their activities to sex and just don't explore feelings beyond that?"

"Yes. Homosexual behavior may be overlooked but experiencing feelings of an emotional nature beyond sex makes a man 'gay' and hence, a potential outcast. In a society where the family bond, honor, and image are extremely important, many tend to follow the dictates and norms of society, even if this means living in conflict with their inner feelings."

"So, men don't cross into the realm of being gay in order not to morally hurt themselves or their families," Duo summarized. "Man, that sucks, but I get it. I really had to overcome my personal barriers to get to where I am, but they mostly had to do with survival. On L2, gay men are common enough; they just don't live long." He put a hand on Quatre's shoulder. "But that doesn't mean Trowa shouldn't go with you."

"I'm not good at hiding things, you know that."

"They gonna peek into your bedroom? Your bathroom? They got cameras taping you?"

"No, of course not! But at dinners and other activities we might touch inappropriately and not even be aware because it's so natural."

"Well, bud, I agree it's a problem, but leaving Trowa this way, at this time, is just plain a bad idea. I know if Heero left me now after this last mission, while we both have some precious time off we could spend together…mending… at a time I'm most vulnerable, and told me it was because I might embarrass him in front of his family? I'd be pissed, and hurt, really hurt, Quatre. Like I didn't measure up. And Trowa's like me with a bit of an inferiority complex already."

"A what?"

"You are like royalty and he's…not. Some could say he's after your money. Some could say you think it's possible so you're not taking him to L4. Some could—"

"That's not true! I'd never—"

Duo put both hands on Quatre's shoulders. "Well, if _I_ thought of it, you can bet Trowa has."

Quatre groaned and leaned into Duo; heads together they sat.

"So, tell him. Talk to him. He deserves to know how _you_ feel. Only then can you decide what to do," Duo said. "Tell Trowa the truth."

Quatre heard the scuff of a calloused foot on the sandy wood moments before the soft rumble of a throat being cleared. He twisted around to face the newcomer and Duo's hands fell away.

"Don't bother," Trowa said. "Consider it said."

End chapter five.


	39. It's Another Vacation Chapter 6

**DEFYING GRAVITY**

Part Three: It's Another Vacation

**Chapter Six**

* * *

Quatre jumped to his feet, running to catch up with Trowa's receding back. "Duo was just explaining to me—" 

Trowa halted. "Fuck off."

"What? I just wanted to talk. Duo explained how you might feel… like you might not feel worthy to meet my family, but that's not true! You're more than worthy for me, better than me in most ways!"

"Why don't you and Duo take some time together? You seem to have something going on still. Hey, you can take him to L4 with you, or is that what you're getting at now?"

"Trowa! No! You aren't hearing what I'm saying! Where are you coming up with all this? Duo's my friend. I just told him about my trip to L4 and why it isn't the best idea for you to accompany me."

"So was I."

Quatre watched as Trowa turned his back on him and walked off. He flung himself at the taller young man grabbing him around the waist. "Don't go! Give me a chance!"

Trowa's head fell to his chest and his shoulders trembled for a moment before tensing. "I keep giving you chances, Quatre. You want to leave. I don't care why, because it doesn't matter really, does it? You want college. Fine. You want to run your family business. Fine. I'm not stopping you. You want to go to L4. Fine, go do that. Just… just don't expect me to like it, okay?"

"You, you can come with me," Quatre said.

"_Can_ I?"

"We'd have to be careful. Not appear to be boyfriends. I was afraid I couldn't do that, not for two months, but if I have to, to prove…"

"To prove what? That I'm okay _friend _material? Good company for a short trip home? Then after four years of college, four years of us living together, four years of dating, then what? You work for Winner Corp and then… what of us? You travel, go to meetings, family visits, broadcasts, interviews… and I'm still your-- what-- buddy? Certainly not your lover or boyfriend; that would look bad in the papers, and news travels fast, so it would find its way back home."

Trowa sighed before going on, as if it took all his energy to speak for so long. "Quatre, I can't be your friend, not like that, not under the same roof. So if this trip is just the start of that kind of future… oh God… shit… don't bother inviting me!"

His voice cracked and Quatre heard him gulp as he swallowed back a sob. Trowa tugged free from Quatre's hold and stumbled away. Quatre sank to his knees, and Duo, who he assumed had heard it all, caught his arm before he fell over. Duo pulled Quatre's left arm over his shoulders and half-carried him to the cottage Duo and Heero shared.

Heero met them as Duo banged into the door. "Gimme a hand, 'Ro."

"Quatre?" escaped Heero's lips as he took his weight off Duo and dumped him onto one of the beds. Quatre curled up on a side and wept uncontrollably while Duo sketched Heero a quick picture of what happened. Heero hissed a "shit" and pulled on a pair of sweatpants over his boxers.

"Stay with Trowa," Duo said.

"That was my idea," Heero said on his way out the door.

When the door closed, Quatre keened in grief, rolling back and forth on the mattress. Duo sat at his side and patted his back. "What a mess, bud."

Quatre sucked in a lungful of air and let it out in a tortured cry. "What have I done?"

(o)

The engineer tucked a stray strand of greasy hair behind an ear and turned a dial on the photo enhancer. The enlarged picture closed in on the picture's detail. "Lucky shot this was. Too bad you haven't a video feed. I do well with video."

"You all say that. You dream of being film editors."

"Do you want me to clarify this or not?"

"You're the best. You decide."

"Okay, now look."

"At what, that blur?"

"Now watch. See that?"

"A darker blur."

"You're impossible. Look again. It's an emblem."

"If you say so."

"I do and I can match it up to a corporate logo."

"No!"

"Yes!"

"And here it is. Recognize it now?"

"Winner Corporation? Why would an Arab security guard in Marrakech, leading away a trade boy be wearing a Winner Corporation company emblem on his cufflink?"

"That… the pictures do not reveal. I can only make sense of the pictures." The engineer sat back, arms folded over his chest, pleased with his job. Someone should make a movie of his work, the thought with a widening smile, and he would edit it perfectly.

(o)

The next morning, late, Duo was awakened out of the bed he had shared with his friend by the insistent buzzing of his cell phone. "Yeah?"

Heero's voice brought him fully into awareness. "Duo, I'm on the road taking Barton back to our house in Sanc. I recommend you keep Winner at the beach for the duration. If he insists on coming here, call first."

"Yeah, okay. I'll do what I can. Tie him up if I gotta. How are you?"

"I can perform well with less than minimal sleep. You?"

"Like crap."

"Hn."

"What are we gonna do?"

"For now, nothing. Let them think. It's not for us to decide the paths our friends must take."

"Now you're sounding like Wufei," Duo told him.

Heero was silent a long moment. "I remember it from a fortune cookie, yours, I believe. You read it aloud."

Duo chuckled, thankful he had a sense of humor and for the brief respite from the problems. "You gonna stay with him or come back?"

Again, Heero was quiet for a long time. "What do you think?"

"I don't think Trowa should stay alone and nor should Quatre, and I wouldn't dream of asking 'Fei to give up his honeymoon time. Rashid could take care of Quat. I'll come back to the house and meet you there then."

"Zechs, um, Milliardo can help him, probably both of them."

"Yeah, and he's right here," Duo said. "I forgot. Funny how that slipped my mind."

"It's temporary, Sally says. Your short-term memory will improve and be back to normal soon."

"Yeah, you all keep telling me," Duo said. He couldn't help feeling discouraged by his diminished capacities. If he didn't show some improvement soon, he wouldn't be able to go back to his new job.

"Duo, you will get better. Now, I think you should stay there with Quatre today. I will call you again tomorrow morning and we'll discuss what to do, but until then, stay put. I left the notepaper by the bed. Write it down."

"What about Mill?" Duo scrambled for the paper and pen and jotted the note to himself. It was better than finding he'd forgotten what he'd promised to do and disappointed everyone, well, Heero.

"I will call and inform him of the problem and let him decide. He knows both of them, Duo, and is a competent psychologist, you know that."

"Yeah, yeah, okay. I'll stay here, watch Quatre, and wait for Mill or you to take the next step."

"Correct."

"I'll miss you, babe," Duo whispered as Quatre came out of the bathroom. "Bye."

"Who?"

"Heero. He and Trowa are heading back to Sanc. He thinks…"

"A little space will help," Quatre said sadly. "I understand. You should go stay with Heero. I'll be okay here with Rashid and his men. Besides, there's Wufei and Sally and Milliardo and Lucrezia and their daughter and Jimmy to look after me."

Duo stood and pulled his buddy into an embrace. "And me. I'll stay today then we'll see, okay? Me and Heero, we gotta lifetime; you and me can have a day at least."

(o)

"General Starks, Herr Sieger here. I have interesting news. Yes, I think it _is _progress. The Arab security guard was wearing cufflinks with Winner Corporation emblems. I have found photos of Winner officials in the company of other of these guards."

"But what does that mean?"

"I have been researching the news releases following the Marrakech conference, looking for relationships between the Winner Corp and any syndicate activity."

"What have you found? You have found something, haven't you, Herr Sieger?"

"Yes, General. News releases on an Italian Count, linking him with the boy trade and insinuating a drug-boy trade ring involvement with Alric Gunter, were written by one Quatre Winner."

The handsome man gasped. "The Gundam pilot?"

"_Ex_-Gundam pilot."

"Contact Herr Spitze. I want a link from this Winner kid to _Wind_."

"On it."

"About Alric Gunter," Sieger paused to light his cigarette, "he was arrested. Part of that huge sting few weeks ago, before we returned to town. Head of Jade Pharmaceuticals. Name was hard to come up with. Some kinda cover up going on there."

"Another Preventers action?"

"Yeah," Sieger drew a lungful of smoke, "which explains our sources drying up everywhere. Without those drugs, my boys are losing their edge."

"Get the phone numbers. Find them. Actually, get me the number for _Wind_ first."

(o)

Later that afternoon, Duo and Quatre sat with Milliardo and Lucrezia to talk over Quatre's problems. Milliardo preferred to have his wife present. He was certain the boys still thought of him in a "master" position, although they would deny it if asked. With her present, the dynamics would be different, for him as well. They didn't get far before Quatre closed up, fell apart, and had to be escorted back to the house with Duo. He wouldn't eat or talk. He crawled into bed, wrapped up, and pretended to sleep.

By nightfall, Duo had exhausted his reserves. He fell into a deep sleep and didn't awaken until he heard a strange noise in the room. It was dark, the rising sun barely illuminating the sky. He cracked open one eye just enough to make out a form moving in the room, looking through his bag. It took him a few seconds to register Quatre as that form, and a few more to see the glint of metal in his hands. He sprang from his bed in the next instant, aiming to disarm his friend, but Quatre had already moved aside. In his single-minded, desperate mind-set, he drew the weapon to his temple and pulled the trigger.

"No!" Duo roared as he launched himself in the air.

He tackled Quatre and brought him down hard, but Quatre hadn't dropped the gun. It hadn't gone off. He was skinny and strong and successfully struggling out of Duo's grip far enough to bring the gun up to his friend's chest.

"Let me go!" he shouted.

"Dammit, Quat!" Duo growled. "Cut it out! The fuckin' gun's not loaded!"

That news stunned Quatre long enough for Duo to flip him over, knocking the air out of his lungs, and wrestle away the gun. Duo rolled over his friend, opening the magazine and spilling out the cartridges across the floor.

"Wha…?" Quatre gasped. "It had bullets! You lied!"

Duo jumped to his feet, stashed the handgun into his bag, and pulling from it a pair of manacles. Quatre likewise scampered to his feet and toward the door, but this time Duo was faster. He had him cuffed and flung onto the bed less than a minute later. They lay there, Duo half on, half off Quatre, pinning his legs.

"You lied!" Quatre repeated between heaves.

Duo could feel his heart pounding as he moved, centering himself over his friend. "Meet the new Duo. I lie and save lives. Can't have it all, I guess."

For some reason, that took all the starch out of Quatre. Duo felt him go limp under him and he allowed his head to sink onto his friend's back. They were both still panting from the exertion, when Duo raised his head.

"You gonna stay put the rest of the night or do I gotta cuff you to the bed?" Duo asked. His intensely serious expression melted into a lurid grin. "'Cause I came equipped with a set for each arm and leg."

Quatre twisted his head around and met Duo's gaze, eyes round. "You what?"

"I think all us ex-pilots have a playful side and need to act out some of our worst nightmares in a safe way. Mill told me so and same with my shrink, though I think she meant I should do group therapy with her."

While he was talking, Duo was sliding off his friend and lying beside him. He didn't really want to trigger a sexual game with Quatre, just give him time to calm down. It seemed to work, too, because his friend's breathing slowed and the remaining fight drained from his limbs.

"I can't imagine Heero letting you restrain him to a bed in that way."

"Haven't tried," Duo admitted. "I don't know… he could snap these in a heartbeat so they'd be more symbolic than anything."

When he looked at Quatre's face, tears were streaming from the corners of his eyes and trickling onto the mattress. "I-I ruined everyone's nice vacation."

Duo couldn't argue with that. "We all brought our problems to this place, Quatre. You just needed time alone with Trowa to discuss all your plans, but instead you were planning a wedding and worrying about us."

"It was nice…"

"The wedding? Yeah, it was great. Fei-man was thrilled, in his own way."

"And the goodbye party for me. Mr. Peacecraft did a nice job on that, I thought. It was very sweet."

"Everybody came, too, because they all love you." Duo paused to let that sink in. "And you were about to take that all away a minute ago. Quat, you tried to kill yourself. And it woulda worked, except that when I load up I leave the first chamber empty."

Quatre pressed his eyes closed, holding back another flow or tears. "Trowa… I've lost him."

"No, you pushed him away, Quat. You walked away from a life he understood, and are about to move on to one where there is no place for him. That's not losing, that's leaving. I hope the job's worth it, that's all. Wouldn't be for me. I'd rather be a grease monkey in a garage than lose 'Ro, but then I don't have the option of running a multi-billion dollar family business, either."

When he looked over at his friend, he noticed Quatre's steady deep breathing. He was asleep. Duo unlocked the handcuffs and pulled a blanket over them to get a few more hours sleep until the next crisis hit.

End chapter six.


	40. It's Another Vacation Chapter 7

**DEFYING GRAVITY**

Part Three: It's Another Vacation

**Chapter Seven**

* * *

Quatre's face reflected the anguish he felt. He was besieged in multiple directions. It washed over him in tormented waves from Duo, and rolled off Milliardo with leaden weight. "You can't imagine how terrible it's been. When I got out of bed in the middle of the night, I was prepared to throw my entire life away." 

"Not to mention mine," Duo put in.

"MINE," Quatre insisted. "I didn't jump rope this morning," he said. "Can you imagine that?"

"I guess not," Milliardo answered.

"I never skip exercise. I didn't eat breakfast. I didn't eat lunch."

"Okay. That's a couple of things I can't imagine," Duo said.

Milliardo pounded the table with a hand, making the two younger men jump. "Enough joking around Maxwell. This is serious. I hope you both know just how serious, but if not then I'll illuminate you. First, although you've come to me out of friendship for help, I'm going to make this more formal to provide you with doctor-patient protection."

"I-I don't understand," Quatre said.

"You are no longer protected by Preventers, Quatre. You have no gun permit. You cannot carry or shoot any firearms without one, even on L4, and you fired upon Duo. I should _arrest_ you."

"But…but…I wasn't thinking! I wouldn't have really shot him; I was trying to kill myself! And even that...not very well."

Milliardo scribbled notes onto a pad of paper, tore off a sheet, and pushed it toward Quatre. "Take it. It's a prescription for you. I want you to see a psychiatrist immediately. Here's a name in Sanc of a good man. Below that is a name of another doctor on L4 for when you go there. This can all be overlooked as long as you seek the help you need."

"Yes, sir, I will. I promise. Thank you. I need help and I'll get it. I will. But…" he looked over to Duo and then back to Milliardo garnering support. "Please help Trowa. See that he continues to go to his doctor for me?"

"Of course we will," Duo said. "He good at going for help, you know."

"Yes, but… he's been so very low lately. A-and don't tell him about this, please!"

"I won't, if you do, sometime." Quatre nodded and Duo went on, "I thought he seemed depressed. Heero's with him. They're close, close enough that Trowa got Heero to see a shrink."

"So, that was Barton's doing?" Milliardo asked. "I thought it was Maxwell."

"Oh, no. Trowa and Heero were partners and took care of one another and helped one another find…"

Quatre stopped his face twisted in anguish before he hid it in his hands. Trowa and Heero had challenged each other to go after Quatre and Duo and find happiness. But that happiness was ruined now. Quatre pulled himself together in order to listen to what Milliardo had to say, although Duo could tell he was too distraught to pay attention.

"Quatre you can't avoid dealing with your emotional needs. None of us finds it easy to decide what to do with our lives, and finding love is difficult and often hard to juggle with our other needs." Milliardo leaned closer and lowered his voice. "And you aren't even twenty yet. Your personality is not fixed. You are changing and will continue to as you meet new challenges. There is no reason to think your first, or even your second, love should be your last in the same way you wouldn't expect your first job to be your only one. It is possible, but unlikely."

Duo shuffled his feet uncomfortably as Quatre nodded dumbly. He hadn't a thing to add, strangely, and Quatre had run out of words or feelings to express. Milliardo continued on along the same vein until he, too, came to the end of his thoughts.

Quatre cleared his throat and stood as if to leave. "I think I'll leave for L4 tomorrow. Rashid can accompany me, leaving plenty of others here to maintain the cottages until you are ready to go. Stay as long as you like. I think… the sooner I begin my duties there, the better for everyone."

There was no changing his mind once he'd made it up, so Duo didn't bother. He accompanied his friend around to say his goodbyes to his guests. Wufei and Sally made him promise to call them daily. Duo didn't. He knew Quatre would call him when he could. One of Rashid's men packed a bag for him, while Quatre placed a difficult call to home. Duo remained within earshot in case he was needed to intercede, also he did want to speak to Heero when Quatre was done.

"Hello, Heero? Yes. I'm better, I guess. I wanted to say… I want to apologize for wrecking our vacation. I know… I know, but… I'm leaving. Yes, L4 tomorrow. I should go back to the house and talk to Trowa in person, I know, but I'm not going to. I'll send one of the Maguanacs around for any of my things I might need but, frankly, I'll probably just buy what I need on L4 and leave it there. Yes! Certainly, if he's willing to talk to me. Okay, I'll tell Duo. Thanks, I'll hold." He turned to where Duo was sitting on the stoop looking out to sea. "Duo, in a minute, Heero would like to talk to you."

Duo waved backwards over his shoulder, but didn't move. He let his mind race across the sand and dive into the waves. He swam with the fishes far out to sea. If he couldn't have fun at least his imagination could. Anything to avoid overhearing Quatre tell Trowa goodbye. Duo rested his head on his folded arms and mourned the passing of another stage of his life.

(o)

Duo was a wreck by the time Quatre and Rashid left for the shuttle port, so Wufei took him running. They pounded the hard-packed sand by the water's edge, danced through the rippling tide, and hopped the tiny waves as they skirted the coastline. They saw no one and marked the passing of time by the dropping of the sun. Duo would have run until he dropped, but Wufei turned him and they ran back, hitting the boardwalk, along which all the Winner estate cottages sat, before sunset. Wufei led him up to the door where Sally stood, a bottle of water in each hand.

"Would you look at you two," she said.

Duo brushed his bangs out of his eyes and studied Wufei, the dark glowing skin, the slender, well-muscled thighs, abs, shoulders and arms. It was one deadly, hot body. He licked his dry lips as his mind played tricks with him and he imagined kissing and licking the sweat off his friend's body. He quickly met Sally's eyes and took one of the bottles, smiling nervously, knowing she had to have seen his response to her husband's lean, fit form.

"Thanks," he said.

Wufei quickly scanned Duo for missing appendages and, seeing nothing out of line, he reached for the other bottle, and asked, "What is it woman?"

"You're both all sweaty and smelly and it's almost dinner time. Heero and Trowa are back. Trowa is visiting with Jimmy. I think the boy will be staying with him in his cottage—very exciting for Jimmy and, naturally, good for Trowa. That little boy just adores him. Anyway, git! Heero is waiting for you, Duo."

"Then I'd best take my dirty body over there—where it's appreciated," Duo said, grinning on his way out.

"And it's a pretty cute little body, but I have my own special boy to play with!" Sally cried out behind him and giggled girlishly at Wufei's snort.

"You'd best come with me, wife," Wufei mock-growled, "so I can keep your eyes off my friend."

"I think the problem is more keeping your friend's eyes off of you!" she giggled again at his aggrieved expression. "But, I'd love a shower before dinner…"

Duo had one foot in the door before Heero slammed the door shut and yanked him to the bedroom. The hunger in his eyes and the strength of his grip nearly unmanned Duo. "I thought I'd take a shower?"

Heero pulled him into a hard kiss, deepening it as Duo opened his mouth submissively. "After."

"After?"

"After we fuck."

"Oh, okay…"

"Strip."

Everything Heero had been before the mission- domineering, possessive, jealous- he had become a more extreme version after. It was as if his personality had been stretched to its furthest extent and now snapped back into place more pumped than ever. Yes, he'd left Duo with Quatre overnight, which had been another stretch. Now he needed to assert himself into Duo's psyche, and being a sexually active young male he used sex as a means to achieve his goal. Duo knew all this and accepted it; at least he would a while longer. He hadn't reached his breaking point and he was still sexually charged from the mission and used to preening and advertising his body, so performing for Heero was _really_ no ordeal.

He glowed with pride as Heero's eyes raked over his exposed body, especially when Heero hissed through his gritted teeth moments before he dropped to his knees and began laving his cock. Duo leaned back on the bed for support. He knew he wouldn't last long. Heero wasn't into foreplay tonight. He was focused on bringing Duo to orgasm as quickly as possible. Duo understood this and didn't mind this time. _He could take it like a man,_ he thought with a smile. Heero was fitting him and a shower in before dinner, and Heero stuck to his schedules.

Heero pushed and Duo fell backwards onto the bed relaxed from his ministrations. He parted his legs and Heero prepared him with cool, gel-covered fingers. That's how he knew Heero loved him. Heero would never hurt him; he always made time for stretching before exercise, and he'd work in a nice cool-down period at the end as well. Heero shoved Duo's legs up and over his shoulders, his determination unyielding.

Duo further submitted, taking whatever punishment and reward Heero was willing to dish out, starting with a kiss. This was not the time to start denying Heero. Duo doubted he'd have the opportunity to use the handcuffs again this trip. Heero just didn't seem to be in the right mindset. Duo pictured Heero turning the play around and cuffing him to the bed instead and shivered.

"Ummmm," Heero moaned in his ear. "So good when you do that."

Heero had had his appetizer. Dinner could wait a little longer. And this was without a doubt going to be the best part of Duo's day.

"Love you, 'Ro."

"Love, uh…!"

(o)

After dinner, Heero and Duo sat on the edge of the boardwalk watching Trowa patiently teach little Jimmy how to throw a Frisbee. Milliardo smiled and waited to retrieve whatever flew his way. Wufei and Sally chose to walk along the shore. For Duo, it was a test of his ability to sit still. For Heero, it was a test of his will power to make him. Heero was alert to any and all the changes in Duo's demeanor since the last mission.

Duo was on edge, nervous, fidgety, forgetful, and –Heero didn't find this one bad at all—sexually receptive. The other changes, he was told, were the result of the drugs and would fade with time. Heero was surprised by the onset of forgetfulness, because Duo hadn't had that problem during the mission. It meant that Duo talked less, afraid to appear stupid or weak, Heero guessed. It was disconcerting and worried Heero most of all.

He couldn't wait for Duo to heal, except, he appreciated having an oversexed boyfriend willing and able to bend over for him. That personality disorder Duo could keep. Not that Duo had really denied him much before the mission, but he was far more submissive, rarely moving to enter Heero.

Heero wasn't missing that. Duo's size stretched him uncomfortably and he hadn't found the words to tell him how little he liked it. Heero knew that with time, and more skill on Duo's part, anal sex might become acceptable, but for now, if Duo was happy to bottom, Heero was satisfied. Most importantly, the only time he felt in control of Duo at all was during sexual contact. The rest of the time it was hit or miss.

Lucrezia joined them carrying her baby girl. Duo's face immediately lit and he asked to hold her. The baby gurgled and waved her tiny hands in the air, reaching for Duo's raggedly bangs and reacting to his expressive face.

"She likes you," Noin said.

"Hi Lark," he said. He followed his greeting with coos and blinking games the baby adored.

"You can get one of your own; better yet, make one with the girl of your choice, Duo."

"Ah, not really, Lucrezia."

Duo enunciated her first name with difficulty, Heero noticed. They had known her primarily as "Noin" during the war years. Converting Une, Noin, and Zechs into well-meaning individuals he could trust was still a reach for Heero, and the other ex-Gundam pilots, too, he guessed.

"Didn't Mill tell you I'm gay?"

If Duo had expected to surprise her with the revelation that he was gay, then he was about to be disappointed. Lucrezia didn't even blink.

"He did. In fact, he told me something like that himself once. Tried to convince me early on that he was. Foolish young man."

Heero couldn't believe that, nor could Duo, apparently. "No way! He's straight arrow. He knew about me and eventually Quat and Trowa and…"

"And me," Heero broke in. "Milliardo made it clear to the rest of us on numerous occasions how he and Wufei distinguished themselves as unambiguously, heterosexual Gundam pilots."

Noin stared at them both, looking them over, Heero assumed, to evaluate their features for some proof of their sexual preferences and comparing the new images with those of the terrorist fighters of her past. "You received drug and hormone treatments along with your training, but Milliardo wasn't under control of the doctors and escaped it. Maybe it wears off and you become normal. Maybe that's what happening to them." Noin tilted her head toward Trowa. "I think the war messed with you all. Teenage boys under pressure… your only trusted friends being the same… Milliardo just needed me to 'straighten' him out, and as you can see he's turned out just fine."

Heero wondered now just how 'straight' Milliardo actually was. He wasn't as uncomfortable sleeping with Duo as Heero thought he should have been. Heero had never asked Duo just how far the two of them had gone. He told Duo he didn't care anymore, but that wasn't completely the truth. He just knew how painful it would be for Duo to tell him about what all he'd had to do on the mission. As Duo had said, "That guy was Scythe. I'm Duo." Maybe someday, but right now Heero could see Duo's t-shirt tighten across his shoulders with accumulating tension and Duo's building anger.

"More likely," Duo said, "he's bisexual—happy with either-- like Trowa. I'm not. I know it now. And Quatre was attracted to boys before the war. It's not a passing phase." He looked down at the baby then out into the distance. "I tried."

End chapter seven


	41. It's Another Vacation Chapter 8

**DEFYING GRAVITY**

Part Three: It's Another Vacation

**Chapter Eight**

* * *

Noin shrugged her shoulders. "People change, Duo. Don't close your mind to the possibility that you might as well. I know several young ladies eager to get close to you, both of you," she added for Heero's benefit. 

She needed have bothered. Patronizing either of the young men was unlikely to get her anywhere. Heero moved closer to Duo, cloaked in his dark presence of protection and scowling as he rolled Duo's words around in his head. _When had he tried having a child?_ Heero certainly knew it wasn't lately, _and with who? _The only girl's name he could come up with was Hilde's, which rankled in several ways. So engrossed was he in his mental exercises, his fishing exercises-- reeling in girl's faces, judging them for baby-producing merits, then tossing them back after failing to meet the necessary criteria, exceeding his limits-- that he missed his chance to drag Duo away from the confrontation and question him.

"Not interested," Duo said.

Heero tuned into the conversation.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"Are _you_?" he asked her. "Are you looking to fool around?" He punctuated that remark with bouncing eyebrows, which Heero interpreted as an attempt to be comical.

"Duo, no, I'm married."

"Well, so is he." Heero's voice dropped into a growl. His possessiveness getting the better of his self-control. "To me."

It was a good thing Duo was holding the baby, because Noin might have dropped her as she jumped to her feet. "Milliardo! Come here! Now!"

Heero and Duo hadn't told anyone else. They had agreed, sort of, to keep it secret, and now that Trowa and Quatre had broken up Heero was glad not to flaunt it around Trowa. He had to stop her from announcing it to the world. Duo and he exchanged wide-eyed looks.

"I'm sorry," Heero said to Duo. "Noin… Lucrezia!" he shouted, tagging on a "please!" like the afterthought it was.

Milliardo was bounding to her side like a high-bred stallion. "Yes, love?"

"Did you know these two boys are _married?"_ she blurted out, before Heero could put a stop to her actions.

"We were keeping it quiet," Duo said, meeting Milliardo's eyes directly. "I don't wanna rub Trowa's face in it, understand?"

"Did you draw up commitment papers?" he asked simply.

"No," Heero said. "We haven't had time." He jabbed Duo's hip again. "Let's go back to our cabin or take a walk."

"You actually understand the kind of commitment becoming civil partners is?" Milliardo asked Heero and stalling his departure.

"No, Mill," Duo cut in. "It was just a thing of the moment, you know, after one of those sexual marathons we have, in a state of post-coital bliss--"

Heero cut him off. "We had various discussions, occasionally arguments about the wisdom of the decision. We'd scoured Google for information and found out as much as we could about the legal position, about the advantages—"

"Many," Duo said, as the corners of his lips curled up.

"--and the drawbacks—"

"Few," Duo said offered up again. Another sly whip of a smile was Heero's reward for taking on the onus of explaining so well.

"We'd even found out how, if it all went terribly wrong, we could get a 'divorce' or rather a dissolution of the partnership after a year," Heero finished.

"That was of course looking on the pessimistic side," Duo finished.

Noin sighed as if relieved by this news. Her eyes drifted to Heero's hands, his arms clasped tightly over his chest. Duo's was holding the baby, but a ring gleamed in full view from his left hand. "I hadn't noticed the ring before now. Is that it? You just put on promise rings?" she asked.

"None of your business," Duo snapped. "In fact, it isn't anyone's business but ours, and kinda Commander Une's, but we cleared it with her so it's all cool with regulations and all, not that it mattered. We woulda done it anyway and I'da quit my job, but it didn't come to that. It's him and me; that's all."

"And it's never going to change," Heero stated as law. He clasped Duo's elbow and nudged him to back away. "No girls in our future and no children."

"Heero, that's so unfair to Duo. He loves children!" Noin cried out.

Lark started crying as a reaction to her mother's shout, and Milliardo took her from Duo, who looked bewildered.

"None," Heero repeated. "He is sterile." He met Duo's incredulous look with softened eyes. He watched as Duo examined the tip of his braid and brushed it across the back of his hand. Heero knew how soothing that could feel. He ached for Duo. Obviously, his faulty memory had cut out another important piece of information. Heero filled in a bit more of the gap in hopes that it might heal over, and to buy him time to recover. "Due to space radiation, probably."

"So, do not tell me I can find a girl and make a family, okay? Got that? I gotta guy and I'm satisfied." Duo crossed his arms across his chest in a defensive stance, imitative of Heero's own.

Milliardo stood transfixed in place, and Heero nearly smiled. Duo hadn't shared that particular information with him, Heero figured, and it wasn't in his file at work, apparently. Heero felt somewhat smug, because Milliardo thought he knew most everything about Duo Maxwell. Of course, the man had to know how Duo hated anyone feeling sorry for him. Duo had pride. Also, Milliardo had to be aware that for a guy who loved little kids, the news that he couldn't produce any had to have come as a blow. It bothered Heero deeply that Milliardo knew so much about his lover, but at times it helped if it meant he'd protect Duo from more inquisitiveness. Like now.

"It's not like I was given a choice. Pick one to love: boys or girls. But never think I'm not happy with how things turned out. My life's complete," Duo said.

"Duo," Milliardo started to say.

"I recommend you be re-tested. Find out where the… deficiency really is, and see if there isn't a solution to your medical problem," Noin said, attempting to be tactful.

"What's the excitement?" Trowa asked, flipping the Frisbee from hand-to-hand and studying the various expressions on all the faces. "Don't worry. I sent Jimmy off in search of a soda. So?"

Milliardo said, "Nothing. A misunderstanding. Lucrezia, time to go and leave these young men alone."

"Did you know these two boys consider themselves to be married? You're their friend."

"Lucrezia," Milliardo said, putting a hand on her arm and jostling the still-crying baby. "Not now."

"They're adults." Trowa was nothing more than a master of the deadpanned expression and laconic attitude. "It's not my business. _You're _married, why would _you_ have problem it?"

"Well, they're both male, for one. They're just barely of age with their lives ahead of them for another, and they're limiting their experiences-- Not to mention they are war heroes to some and the publicity would be—"

"Nothing they can't handle," Trowa said. He turned to Heero. "You file your intention to make a civil partnership yet?"

Heero shook his head, his fists clenching and unclenching repeatedly.

"Then you have to wait fifteen days before you can actually do it," Trowa said. "I looked it up."

Heero nodded, and was thankful when Milliardo led his wife away with no further comment. That Trowa had looked up that piece of information revealed how serious he had taken his relationship with Quatre. Heero's chest tightened against a sharp stab of pain. It wasn't fair that his friend and work partner had survived the last mission only to have an ugly reality come down around his head.

"Let's go for a walk in the other direction," he said to Trowa and Duo.

"Go ahead. Jimmy's expecting me," Trowa said, deftly excusing himself from the pair.

(o)

His home was more of a fortress than he had remembered, but he had changed. He sent Rashid back to watch over the vacationers, and even though he hated to part with his dear friend who was like a father to him, he needed to bear this next step in his life alone.

Returning to his home after four years was a bitter-sweet delight for Quatre. It was like traveling back in time and entering childhood again. Each step, each walk revealed a forgotten memory: the little tomb where Quatre had buried his pet cat, Nawal, his "gift" from his youngest sister; the park where he had learned to ride a bicycle; the giant hedge of pomegranate bushes, behind which he had his first cigarette; the gazebo where he'd learned about boy-love for the first time and shared a furtive kiss. And the heat was the same. Hot and dry today, but with the arrival of rain it would become unbearably humid.

His estate lay outside a town, which had changed a bit through time, just like Quatre. After the war, rebuilding had turned the rural village into more of a city. Big malls and supermarkets replaced the tiny shops at the corner of the roads, and a few sandy roads were covered with the fake-asphalt manufactured on L4. He assumed that the children of family friends, who had visited and played with him, had grown into teenagers, but was uninterested in establishing contact with them.

Quatre missed Trowa very much. He left behind something important Earthside; he knew it and was reminded of it at every crossroad in the day. When he woke up in the morning and rolled to the side to hug Trowa, the emptiness he found instead disappointed and hurt him dreadfully. Quatre missed his touch, his voice, his scent, his intense gaze, and even the hickies Trowa gave him. Finding himself uncomfortably sticky from his morning walk drove him to shower, but then having wet hair was no fun without Trowa to jump on and play until it dried fluffy and wild.

It was awful. Quatre sighed as he dried his hair with a blow-dryer attached to the wall for that purpose. He dressed disinterestedly. A servant delivered a cup of tea. No, he wanted nothing more. Thank you. He sipped a cup of tea and gazed out the window of his room. He picked the phone up to call Trowa, but then desisted. _What would he say?_

His life was more complicated than ever. What Quatre hadn't told anyone was a promise he'd made to his father on his deathbed.

"I don't want to force you, Quatre, my only son and light of your dead mother's short life. You choose if you want to marry. But my last wish is to see you married. I don't want my son to wander here and there after my death. Everyone needs a companion, a companion who'll halve your sorrows and double your joys."

"I know but why hurry? Marriage is not a game," Quatre had argued.

"It pains me to put you in such a hurry, but I have very little time. I married at your age. It's the age when the bond is created and it strengthens overtime. I'm talking from experience, my son. But I'll have you married only if a proper bride is found for you. I would never play with your future," his father had said.

With tears in his eyes as he grabbed Quatre's hand in his own weakening one, he asked, "Will you marry?"

It was like time itself stopped to laugh at Quatre's state of confusion. He looked around for a little loophole to run away. He could not even find a proper argument. How could he marry? He liked boys, several of them, but no one in particular and no girls at all. Girls were the only possible sex for marriage in his family's eyes, he knew. Marriage! The idea itself was atrocious. But when he looked into the expectant face of his dying father, he didn't have the heart to refuse him.

He would have to find a solution later but at that moment with bombs exploding in the distance he answered, "Yes, father. I'll marry."

And so, harboring that terrible memory, that binding promise until he was nearly sick with worry, the days passed, one running into the other. Showing up at the corporate headquarters, attending meetings, half-heartedly joining his sisters at family meals—one day pretty much like the one before. He had never felt so alone and bored and dispirited.

One night, Quatre dreamed he was back at his home in the room he shared with Trowa. He crept stealthily next to the bed, and grinning mischievously, he shook his head above Trowa. Drops of water flew from his hair onto his still-sleeping boyfriend. Trowa groaned loudly. He was not a morning person. After mumbling something, from which Quatre caught only "morning" and "illegal", he rolled to other side of the bed. Quatre giggled and rolled, too. Trowa called out to him, and he turned his way.

"Quatre!" But the voice wasn't right. "Quatre, you've overslept again. Qadira sent me to wake you. She's waiting. You have an important meeting with her."

"I'm sorry!" Quatre scooted to the bathroom and slammed the door against any more of Abdel's shouting.

Abdel was one of the Maguanacs, who acted as servants, bodyguards, and administrative aids to the family. His name meant "servant" just as Qadira's meant "powerful" in Arabic. Although Arabic was rarely spoken by anyone but the very old, the L4 patois had absorbed many of its words into daily use, names especially.

All his sisters were so demanding of his time, and pushy. He yearned for his laidback lover then remembered he'd left him for this and nearly cried as he tried to shave. He ended up nicking his chin in two places.

He met Qadira in the sunroom where breakfast had been laid out hours earlier. It was gone now and his sister was dressed for going out. Sunlight streamed past the shades, washing the tiled floor with warmth, but none of it reached Quatre.

"Let's walk," she said and headed out the double doors. He was left with no choice but to follow.

"Quatre, our father's aid recorded his last wishes, and, now that you are here, it is time to review how you must participate. Since you agreed to marry, I'm trying to find the best girl for you. Most I think of are just not good enough for you. Nevertheless, I have a girl in my mind. What do you think of Nada? Her name means "generous one" which is a good omen."

"Nada? You mean the Mayor Shaza's daughter? That little girl?" Quatre exclaimed as he stopped in his tracks.

"Yes, the same Nada, only she's grown up like you. You were very fond of her when you were children."

She expected him to reply, so Quatre gave her a weak smile to match his marshmallow-weak legs. His knees threatened to melt out from under him as he tried to keep pace alongside her determined strides. His mind was processing the sights and smells and sounds of home and had not yet come to terms with the news.

_Nada?_ The Shaza family had lived near their estate when he was a boy. Nada and her elder brother, Aden, were close to his age and status, so they played and partied together. Schooling was private with tutors so they'd never had school chums. Still, they had been good friends and Quatre had once been close to both of them.

When he was only fifteen, he had become a Gundam pilot. His colony attacked, his father injured, Quatre's last promise made before his father died, and Quatre had not seen any of his childhood friends since. Nada, he remembered, had been a nice girl: outgoing, obedient, and hard working. But he never thought about her in that way. _I'm gay, for Allah's sake!_

"Can you tell me why you bring up Nada's name?" Quatre asked as he jogged up to his eldest sister.

He found himself falling into more formal speech patterns without thinking, and smiled when he thought of Duo's visit to the estate years ago when he was recuperating from war injuries.

"Yanno how do you end up with a small fortune on L2?" Duo had asked at the dinner table.

Several of his sisters offered suggestions meant to be taken seriously. Duo had pretended to listen intently, but Quatre knew by his widening grin that he had a punch line ready. "Aw, c'mon! On _L2!_ _**L2**_! All ya gotta do is start with a large one!"

Duo's laugh following that joke had been all over the place. He was small, but he filled the rooms with his noise and gregarious personality. Half his sisters loved him and the other half pretended not to be able to understand his L2 slang. They would all love Trowa's quiet manners, Quatre thought; that is, until they found out they were lovers. That saddened him enough to block off his own thoughts and look over, but it was too late. His sister was another empath and was examining his face.

"Don't look at me so tragically. I met Nada last year at a wedding. She has grown up and has become so beautiful. She's well mannered too. I talked to Mrs. Shaza yesterday and, like me, she believes that Nada and you would make a marvelous couple. Today we are going to their place to talk a bit," she told him.

"You finalized everything without asking me?" he asked, his voice rising to a shriek.

"My dear little brother, nothing is finalized! Only after Nada and you both consent, we will consider the marriage. It's just a proposal."

"And what if I don't agree to the proposal?"

"No marriage--yet. We'll look for another girl. But you have got to have a solid reason for saying no," she replied as Quatre scowled.

"I came because of my job with Winner Corps, not to get married."

"Filling your family obligations _is_ part of your job," Qadira reminded him.

End chapter eight.


	42. It's Another Vacation Chapter 9

**DEFYING GRAVITY**

Part Three: It's Another Vacation

**Chapter Nine**

* * *

Trowa found Jimmy in the kitchen of the beach house they were now sharing. He had finished his soda and made himself a peanut butter sandwich snack. His light hair already streaked by the sun hung in his eyes. Trowa wondered if he was growing it out to mimic his adoptive father's waist-length mane. 

"Yo, dude," Trowa greeted him.

"Trowa!"

"Half for me?"

"Half?"

"Well, dinner's a whole hour away. I could use something and, well, I am bigger." Trowa looked at the boy with a serious expression.

"Hour?"

"Yep. Dining room's being setup already."

Jimmy ripped the sandwich approximately in half, held them up to see which was bigger then, with a moment's hesitation, gave Trowa the bigger half. "I like it here."

Trowa looked up from under his shock of bangs. "Sweet place for sure. Seen Mill's new place?"

Jimmy's eye's widened. "Have you?"

"No, is it being fixed up?"

"It's a CASTLE! It's huge! Did you know he's a bonafide prince?"

"He was once, but he gave that up. But, Milliardo's got a cool place, huh? Big?"

"Holy smoke! I mean a real castle with turrets and ramparts and his Jaguar."

"A jaguar, really?" Trowa looked surprised, although he knew the boy meant the car he'd ridden in before. "I fed one in the circus. Did I tell you that?"

"The circus? No!"

Trowa chewed on a bite and then told Jimmy about feeding the big cats—what they ate, how much, and that led to the acts he performed. He showed the boy a couple magic acts, nothing much, but it impressed Jimmy.

"I wish you were coming to live with us. There's plenty of room. I'd bet Mr. Peacecraft, er, _Dad_, would let you. He likes you, too."

"He does? Well, I'll come to visit, for sure. I got a place of my own, though, right now… staying with you and Milliardo sounds pretty good. Tell you what, I'll ask him."

(o)

Heero discovered that he had become as single-minded about Duo now as his pursuit of him had been a year ago. Just like his doggedly determined fighting in the war before that. _When had sex been the focal point of his life,_ he wondered? The little voice in his head replied, "_When I decided to chase after and win Duo's heart._" He hadn't had that hunger before or for anyone else. _Good thing Duo liked him, too_, he thought, smiling. He married him and it would soon be formalized. _Joined forever_.

Heero wrapped Duo in his arms and draped a leg over him. He had seen to it that Duo had eaten and exercised, and now he needed sleep. He needed a healthy lifestyle, order, good habits, and stability. These would help his body heal faster, or so Heero had been told by the doctors. That was pretty much what the doctors had told them _all_. Caring for Duo was important; getting him well enough to return to work was his goal; Heero devoted himself to succeeding, although he wasn't sure he knew how.

He could make out the shape of the dresser and a chair in the darkening room. He counted Duo's heartbeats, felt the rise and fall of his chest, and willed himself not to budge, even if it meant he lost all feeling in his arms and legs. Heero couldn't sleep. Duo twisted around and opened his eyes. Apparently, Duo couldn't either.

"Where are we?" Duo asked.

"Beach. Your choice for our vacation."

"Ah, crazy nature."

Heero ran that through his translator and decided to wait for more data before analyzing what Duo meant. "Hn."

"Yeah, for a minute there I was back on L2."

"L2? No oceans there, Duo."

"The sound."

"It sounds like ocean waves on L2? Where?"

"Sorta. It reminds me of the environmental controls in sector 5 where the fans were out of adjustment. They would pivot back and forth and fluctuated on and off, creating sound interference waves which sounded like this, the waves."

He was still, listening to the roar undulating in volume as the swelling waves broke upon the sand, time after time after time, never stopping, pounding the shells and rocks into progressively smaller and smaller particles of sand, sucking them out to sea, and finally redistributing the little bits onto the beaches.

"Would you like to go watch the waves?" Heero asked. It would be better than imagining the process or counting mental grains until sleep overtook him, even in the dark.

"C'mon," Duo said as he bounded out of bed.

Just then, the house phone rang, which was unexpected. Only the Maguanacs, the guests in the houses, Quatre, and Commander Une had the house numbers. Duo was first to pick it up, but Heero was glued to his back, listening.

"Whatsup?"

"Duo?"

"Ah…yeah?"

"Duo Maxwell?"

"What? Who is this?" Duo's voice hardened. "Well, fuck you!"

Whoever had called hung up without identifying himself.

(o)

The tiles gleamed white, sheeted with light from the sun directly overhead. Quatre looked around him to find something to talk about, squinting. Nada and he were sitting in the garden to talk a bit, but he didn't know what to say. A thick silence surrounded them with the rising heat. Bowers of roses in bloom offered up a dense heavy fragrance in the sun.

Quatre's older sister had, in fact, planned to offer the Shaza family a proposal. Quatre met Mr. and Mrs. Shaza, who were as usual very polite and warm, but he found it weird and even unnerving when they spoke to Qadira about Nada and him as if they were not here. Quatre just sat and replied to their questions as if it were a job interview. Shortly thereafter, he and Nada were shooed out to the garden to talk alone for the first time in many years, which accounted for the conversational lull.

"You like roses very much, don't you?" he asked to initiate a dialog.

"Yes, the rose plants around you will blossom for many months. Most of them are red, my favorite," she replied.

"A red rose is a symbol of socialism or social democracy," he contributed.

"And love," she said, blushing. Then, the uncomfortable silence returned.

_What should a gay man say when talking to a girl destined to be his future wife? _Quatre wondered frantically. The situation was ridiculous. He thought about coming out to her. She would understand, surely, but she would also talk to his sisters and it was not what he wanted. _Who would Qadira find next for him to marry?_

"This is getting really awkward," Nada finally said in a voice higher than usual. "We have been friends for years and now we are talking like strangers. Okay, tell me a bit about your four years abroad. Your sisters told me that you don't have any girlfriends. It's very difficult to digest, you know, for a handsome man like you not to have a girlfriend by now."

Quatre laughed. That was the Nada he remembered: the one who took control of everything. She used to head all the projects they did together, and get him into trouble.

"I was a Gundam pilot, you know that! I was busy without time for any dating. And my Preventers job after that kept me busy, too. My best friends became the other pilots. Anyway, the few girls I met were too... frivolous for my taste. And you? How's your life?" Quatre said smiling now that he felt more at ease.

"Really good. I managed to convince my parents to allow me to study more. I really wanted to go off-colony, but my father wouldn't allow that, so I was admitted to a college here on L4 in philosophy," she said. "You could attend that college, too, and not have to go back Earthside."

"Possibly," he said, not having any carefully thought-out reason for not choosing a closer college that he could share with her. "You never fell for someone? Or someone never fell in love with you?" Quatre asked. He wanted to keep himself out of the conversation.

"No, no one fell in love with me," she said, but Quatre caught a trace of sadness in her eyes. "I guess I was not good enough for them."

"That's not possible! You are an amazing girl. They were idiots to lose you. Their bad luck!"

He meant to comfort her as he held her hand, but Nada blushed at the contact. Quatre smiled sadly. It was just a friendly gesture on his part; however, it seemed that Nada misunderstood him. His heart sank as he felt hers soar. He cringed inside as he imagined just how awful it was going to be later when he would have to explain why he couldn't go through with a sham marriage.

(o)

The next day started out bright and sunny, the anonymous phone call and Trowa's troubles forgotten, temporarily. "We've spent too long waffling around," Heero said to Duo while he was still in that blissful state between sleep and wakefulness and completely at his stronger lover's mercy. Usually Heero used that time to work on his sexual appetites, but knowing he had a deadline to meet motivated him to get moving. "Remember what we agreed to do this morning?"

"No. I couldn't have agreed to do anything in the morning. Mill told me not to. I think you're taking advantage of my shitty brain."

"You think I'm making this up?"

"You could be--"

"Duo, we must give notice to register our intention to make a civil partnership if we are going to go through with it before we go back to work. And Milliardo's entitled to his own opinion, but he's wrong about us. No more waiting. So, get up."

"Yes, honey," he said with a lopsided grin. "I love you when you are masterful."

"We have to wait fifteen days before we can actually do it as it is."

"If you say so, honey."

"We will do it today."

"Ummm," he said, snuggling up, all warm and compliant.

Heero put the next half an hour to good use before getting up and finding they had to rush so as to avoid being behind schedule.

(o)

"Mr. Rhatt" was the name imprinted on the registrar's lapel-tag. He was elderly, grey, and world-weary. His grey-brown hair and grey moustache matched his worn sweater-vest beneath his suit coat, which, Heero guessed, the man wore year-round, since it was summer now. He peered at the two young men through thick framed glasses without a twinkle in his rheumy-grey eyes. "Are you the prospective partners?" he croaked.

He probably didn't get much business down in his dark, little cubbyhole of an office, and, so, his was a rarely-used voice. Or he had a disease. Heero regarded him as he would any other lesser life form.

"Heero Yuy."

"Duo Maxwell, yeah."

"I'll need your ages, or rather your dates of birth, and your addresses or address, plus confirmation that you are currently Sanc city-state citizens, male, and have lived at your present address or addresses for at least seven days."

"We're hoping to move and get a place to ourselves," said Duo chattily, but Mr. Rhatt didn't seem prone to chat.

Heero wasn't sure whether he was a grumpy person or if he disapproved basically of civil partnerships between same sex couples. He did wonder why Duo had said what he had about moving, since they weren't planning to change residences at all. Then he had an idea.

"Put our house address there, not the cottage where we're vacationing," he reminded Duo, just in case his idea was correct.

"Oh! Okay."

Heero revealed the barest suggestion of relief by releasing his clenched fists. Maybe he should appease the gods, any gods; Duo's God would be a good idea. If they could just get through this without a hitch, he would find a way to reward Duo. Buy him a camera. And lunch. Celebrate. Take him to a chapel or something. What was taking so damn long? The form was only a single page.

"You can't register for fifteen days after this order is granted," Mr. Rhatt said with what seemed to be an air of triumph in his tone. Heero knew this information, of course, but supposed they had to tell everyone the same facts.

"He needn't have sounded so pleased about it," Duo whispered in Heero's ear.

Mr. Rhatt raised his eyebrows in question. He reminded Heero of a teacher in one of his schools who hated whispering children. He almost expected the man to demand that he "share" what Duo had said to the class, but he didn't.

"After that period of waiting, during which objections can be made –" he paused as if he expected to hear a spectral voice from one of the open bins of forms make such an objection. Heero waited for the man to finish up. He had other things on his schedule, waiting.

"No one cares," Duo said.

"Perhaps one of you is already married, or you are consanguineously related and don't know about it," Mr. Rhatt said, again with more pleasure than it deserved.

"No chance," Duo said. "We got different blood types. Mine's alien."

Mr. Rhatt didn't bother quarreling, which was the first thing he had done that impressed Heero as a sign of intelligence. After what seemed a long time, he finished. "You may register as civil partners in any approved place as long as there are at least two witnesses."

He filled in a new form and slid it across the counter in their direction. Both Duo and Heero made a grab at it. Duo got there first. Mr. Rhatt gave them his blessing in the form of another stricture: "You may not register in any place which is either designed for or is in use mainly or solely for religious purposes."

"Thank you," Heero said, and led Duo out by the elbow before he could start up a new conversation or get into an argument. Now to reward Duo.

End chapter nine.


	43. It's Another Vacation Chapter 10

**DEFYING GRAVITY**

Part Three: It's Another Vacation

**Chapter Ten**

* * *

Duo skipped down the steps into the bright sunlight, clutching their piece of paper as if it were a treasure map. Washed in his smile of joy, Heero felt cleansed to the soul and was tempted to give him a kiss, but there were quite a few people around and he didn't want to cause a riot. They walked together, close, shoulders almost touching along the avenue of the beach town. Heero grabbed hold of his hand in observance of the occasion. No one seemed to notice except a scruffy-haired, guy in baggy cargo shorts and a filthy T-shirt. 

"Fucking queers," he said as the pair passed.

But there were two of them and only one of him.

"Fucking breeder," Duo said. "If anyone would want to."

Nothing could really depress either of them that morning.

"Where are we headed?" Duo asked.

"Shopping," Heero told him. "We didn't bring enough clothing for two more weeks at the beach house."

"Okay."

Heero made a point of getting Trowa more underwear, shorts, and shirts too. Sally and Wufei could take care of themselves, but Trowa would most likely wear the same clothes for the duration, without washing. He never did the wash. Quatre and Duo took care of clothes, and right now Trowa wasn't even taking care of Trowa. He hadn't shaved since Quatre had gone. If it wasn't for Jimmy staying in the cottage with him, Heero guessed he'd skip eating, and probably getting up, too.

After that, choosing clothes took less time than expected, mostly because Heero made them shop in only the one store and kept reciting items off a made-up menu to Duo.

"Roasted chicken lapped in a butter-wine sauce, sautéed mushrooms with..."

"Sounds good. I'm done. C'mon, let's eat."

"Hurry and pick out your clothes, then," Heero told him. Heero picked out a couple things for himself. "I have to try them on."

"Go ahead," Duo said with a smile and returned to the stacks of t-shirts.

Heero knew he shouldn't be so worried. Duo was capable of taking care of himself, but he was also in a vulnerable state. There were times when he just wasn't _all _Duo. Heero concentrated on what he was doing and found that the shorts he had chosen fit well, better than his old ones, so Heero decided to buy two, if he could find another pair in a suitable color.

First thing he did as he exited the fitting room was locate Duo. It wasn't hard. Duo was laughing and holding up an atrocious flowered shirt. He turned when the salesman looked over his shoulder, taking his hand off Duo's arm, and said something. Heero eyes met the salesman's eyes and held them in a death grip, splintering off razor-sharp shards, and sending them flying at the man's head and heart-- then he blinked away his lethal thoughts.

"Whaddya think, 'Ro? Should I get this?" Duo asked, chuckling.

"If I were dead, yes." Heero's eyes never left those of the salesman.

"Maybe your...friend… would like you in this one," the salesman said. He leaned into Duo unnecessarily as he reached for a pair of hanging shirts. "There's even one like it for him in green."

_As in green with envy? _Heero's eyes narrowed.

"It's soft," Duo said, fingering the fabric.

"It's silk," Heero said. He could tell from the sheen. "Too much care. I prefer a cotton blend. Possibly rayon."

"Ah, a man who knows his materials and what he wants."

Heero cut off further word sparring with the clerk. "I have what I want, unless you can find me an identical pair of shorts to these in tan or olive."

"Olive? I'll see what I can find." The clerk took off on his mission, leaving Duo alone with Heero.

"I'll use that fitting room now." Duo smiled then quickly turned away.

"Try this," Heero suggested.

"Pink? No way."

"It's coral. You can wear orange tones."

Duo stared at the shirt. "Like a sunset. Sure, okay. Gimme it."

Heero studied Duo as he jaunted off with his clothes, humming a tune. His eyes caught sight of the belts and an idea stuck him. By the time Duo came out to model the coral shirt with a pair of dark blue cutoffs, Heero had formulated a plan to take care of his possessive streak.

"Not bad?" Duo asked as he rolled up the long sleeves to the elbow. His braid swung past the belt display, slapping the metal rack, and attracting Heero's iron-hard eyes to him magnetically.

The salesman was back with Heero's olive shorts. "That color is marvelous on you."

"Ring everything up. He'll wear those out. I'll cut the tags." Heero clipped off orders in a cold, metallic tone as if he was handling the rank and file at the office. Those belts had given Heero an idea. He was going to have to do some research when they got home to find just the right product, and fit for Duo.

"You seem preoccupied," Duo commented once they were outside again.

"Hn." Heero realized he was and had to stop concentrating on his new project. "Fish place up ahead good for you?"

"Any of the ten places we already _passed_ looked good to me; but, yeah, let's go there."

Duo sailed into the restaurant looking like a proud bridegroom and grinned at the hostess seating them. Duo had wanted to take the signed form to show Quatre, but Heero had insisted they stick with the schedule. After Duo had sipped at his crisp, white wine and gnawed at a couple breadsticks, Heero explained what Duo had forgotten: that Quatre was on L4 and no longer in a relationship with Trowa. To cheer Duo up, Heero mentioned buying a camera next.

(o)

Quatre had invited his personal secretary and another man their age working in the financial office for dinner at a nearby restaurant to catch up a bit with what he had missed. Kalil's name meant "best friend" and in a way the young secretary to the heir to the Winner Corporation was that to Quatre while visiting his home land. Both men had known Quatre in their youth, their fathers were employees of his father, but hadn't been close childhood friends. They were chatting about mundane things, when Kalil had to bring up _that_ topic.

"So you are going to marry, huh?"

Quatre choked on his drink as the other two smirked.

"Who told you that? I haven't even said yes yet!" Quatre said indignantly.

"Like you are going to say no! Another one bites the dust," Nasir (whose name meant "the helper") said.

He looked down on Quatre with mock pity. Both co-workers sniggered stupidly, and Quatre wished again for a table someplace else with other friends. But this was home now, he reminded himself, and he'd better get used to his new place in it.

"But I never thought Quatre would be the one to marry first. You remember how he used to stay away from the girls. He didn't even look up when one passed by," Kalil said with a grin.

"Yeah! You remember the love letter a girl once gave him? Quatre was so nervous he told the poor girl that he had no feelings for her. She was so heart broken!" Nasir added.

"Yes, and I also remember how you went to console her. A bit too much consolation, I think. Now, shut up and eat silently. Or else you're the one paying the bill," Quatre snapped.

That shut them up. They were aware that he'd been a Gundam pilot, a hero who had defended their colony, which carried a lot more weight than the threat not to cover the meal. As thankful as he was for their cowed behavior, he wished for friends he could joke with without touching on painful memories, or ones who could find words to ease the pain they caused.

"So, outside of work, how are things?" Quatre eventually asked after a few minutes.

"Nothing special. Unemployment. Corruption," Kalil replied.

"You remember that tall guy whose father worked in personnel? His name was Tariq, the 'night visitor'," Nasir asked.

"Yes, the one with large glasses. Why?" Quatre said.

"Well, he's living with another man on L2, his _boyfriend_," Nasir said in a small voice so the other patrons nearby wouldn't overhear.

"He was _gay_?" Kalil asked Nasir in surprise.

Quatre never thought that Tariq could be gay, but then he had awful gaydar. He waited for the "other guy" to make the first move. Even with Trowa. Although he asked Trowa out the first time, it was only after Trowa had made it clear he was interested. He fought back tears, shielding his eyes from the other men at the table. Thinking about Trowa hurt so bad.

"Yeah, even I couldn't believe it at first. I mean, he looked really normal," Nasir said again under his breathe as if they were planning to assassinate the Federation President.

"Well, gays are normal people," Quatre commented timidly. "It doesn't matter if he's gay or not. He was a nice guy and very smart."

"Easy for you to say since you have been abroad for years. But you know how it is here. It must have been a real shock to his parents," Kalil said.

"Shock is an understatement, mate. His mother was admitted to the hospital for one week. His father is still telling everyone that he doesn't have a son," Nasir filled them in.

"You're kidding!" Quatre exclaimed. "His parents loved him very much. I remember once, when his father was awarded a prize for his service, he gave the gift money to Tariq and hugged him in front of everyone. He was really close to them."

"But a gay son is hard to accept. His parents aren't able to show their face to anyone. Last week they moved to another city," Nasir said.

The bite of curry turned to tasteless dust in his mouth; Quatre suddenly lost his appetite for good.

(o)

Duo waved the piece of paper in Chang's face. "Step one!"

He smiled and nodded. It didn't look particularly impressive, no gold-deckled edge, no fancy font and just a scrawled signature at the bottom which looked something like 'rat' (Mr. Rhatt, mousey to the last), but Chang expressed pleasure, because he could see how excited Duo was. "Congratulations."

"So when is it to be?" asked Sally.

"And where?" asked Wufei.

"Well, it can't be for at least fifteen days," Heero said. "That's how the law stands unless there are exceptional circumstances."

"Exceptional circumstances?"

"Yes, the first same sex civil partnership in this country was carried out a day after the order was issued because one of the partners was terminally ill. He died a day later."

"That's so sad," said Sally.

"So, we wait for a fortnight and then the revels begin," said Wufei. "You gays are noted for your exquisite taste in decoration. It'll be a grand affair, no doubt."

Duo was too buoyed up to care what the guy said, or even that Wufei had dropped a rare joke on him.

"Flowers everywhere, a three piece chamber orchestra, lots of yummy food," suggested Sally. She drank her herbal tea from the Styrofoam cup and made a face. "God, this is nasty stuff. It had better calm my stomach. I look as terrible a I feel, don't I?"

No one was stupid enough to touch that comment without bomb squad gear.

"You _had_ your chance to put on a show at your wedding," Heero said. "Not for us. Sandwiches and a glass of sparkling wine-- colored water for you, if anything."

"Callous bastard," Sally said. She poured the nasty tasting tea onto the sand.

"Tight wad," said Trowa. "There'll be a crowd. Better feed them."

"Just a few close friends," Heero insisted.

"Relena, Hilde, and Dorothy are coming; I won't be the only female there."

"Of course," Duo said. "And I'm thinking of asking Lady Une. Smile!"

"Don't you dare!" Sally cried and hurled her empty cup at him. "Put that camera down!"

He snapped her picture and ran.

(o)

"Think of the cost at the Hilton," Heero said.

"Think how Trowa and Quatre would love it," said Duo.

"Just tell me _who_ it is that is getting married?" Heero said, sighing and not wanting to go into the Trowa-Quatre break up again.

"We are."

"And we are poor, Duo. Very, very poor."

In the end they put off making a decision and, cuddled together on the bed and watched an old black and white movie. It wasn't sentimental or sad; instead, it was frightening and bloody. Then the phone rang.

Heero took phone call. "Heero. Yeah, who is this?"

"Did they hang up on ya?" Duo asked.

"Yes, like the other day, when you took that call."

"Huh?" Duo straightened up. "Don't give me any shit, Heero."

"I'm not. That is the second call. Someone knows where we are and is trying to reach us."

"Why?"

Heero shrugged his shoulders.

"Okay," said Duo.

"The Maguanacs can set up a trace or review records of the incoming calls. They handle the Winner corporate security," Heero added just in case Duo hadn't remembered who they were.

"That's a lot of trouble for a couple crank calls."

Heero nodded and, instead, rang Commander Une and told her about the mysterious phone calls both he and Duo had received.

"I agree that it must be more than a coincidence," said the commander. "I'll look into it."

She wasn't overly concerned, he could tell. In fact, her calm attitude made him rethink his call. He was over reacting, just as Duo had after his long UC jobs. The commander must think he was a whining sniveler.

"It's probably nothing," he conceded. It was time to forget about it and concentrate on the sexy man at hand.

End chapter ten.


	44. It's Another Vacation Chapter 11

**DEFYING GRAVITY**

Part Three: It's Another Vacation

**Chapter Eleven**

* * *

He took Milliardo by surprise when he asked about staying at his estate. "Just thinking," Trowa said. 

"You and Quatre have been friends for years. Would you mind telling me what's going on in your head?"

"He chose Winner Corp over me, simple as that. I would, too, given the choice. Can't have the poster boy for success shacking up with an ex-mercenary, ex-circus boy, ex-Gundam pilot, cop, who is also a male."

"Quatre _Winner_ said that?"

"Hell, no. I did. I won't be cast as some gold-digger after his cash or some damned faggot pervert after his ass. I've got _some _pride." Trowa stretched his long legs over the deck ledge and gazed out to sea. "I thought I could handle him going to school and taking on the family business, until I started reading the company newsletters and local papers. Very low tolerance for the alternative lifestyle."

"But Quatre grew up in that environment, and he's more than tolerant!" Milliardo argued.

"He even had sex with other boys as a kid," Trowa said. "I don't know how he hid that. Probably not for long anyway because he left when he was—"

"Fifteen, yes, like the rest of you warped people," Mill said, his eyes twinkling in jest. "Listen, he sounds to me like a very determined young man, unlikely to let family or business officials push him around."

Trowa wasn't so sure, so he shrugged his response. "Then you're fucked."

"Well, I do. I think you two parted rashly like two teenage boys terrified of the future and of a serious relationship. Now, hold on. I'm not condoning teenage commitments. You were probably correct parting. Meeting new people can be good, allow for personal growth."

Trowa was, again, gazing out to sea, choosing to disagree in silence.

"Which gets us back to your earlier request," the older man said with a pause. When Trowa cocked his head back towards him, Milliardo continued. "Of course you may come…for a visit. I would expect you to, and Jimmy would be terribly disappointed if you didn't."

"But, not to stay, you mean."

"No. I'm sorry, but that sounds like running away from your friends and problems. If things get tough you can visit anytime, certainly, and you'll have the dormitories at Preventers for emergencies. Maybe later you'll want to move out on your own, which would be fine, but go slow. Not too many changes at once. Think, I know you can think, long and hard about your future."

Trowa nodded. "Yeah, sure. Makes sense, in a way. Just didn't want to do nothing and take the easy way."

"Take the _easy_ way?" Milliardo laughed aloud. "When did _any_ of you take _any_ way that was easy? You all make life so very difficult for yourselves."

Trowa stood. "You're thinking of Maxwell."

"And you in particular. You are a self-made man. You weren't born to riches and you had a rough start, but you made a success of it."

"Yeah, I can always look back on this time of my life and say, 'at least I fucked the heir to one of the biggest fortunes in the universe'."

"Trowa, get out of here," Milliardo said. He shooed him away with an elegant wave of his perfectly manicured hand.

That evening, Trowa left his phone off the hook, while his neglected cell phone battery died. He sent Jimmy to visit Uncle Heero. He needed to think and for that he needed absolute quiet broken only by the crashing roar of the ocean outside his window. That could be open, too. Damp air and crashing roar. He rubbed at his chin, satisfied with his decision to grow a mustache and goatee. Trowa plugged his cell phone into the re-charger, but left it off. The only messages were from Heero, and there was one from Quatre, a hang up, no communication. And one from 'noname', a blast from the past, no doubt. He would definitely leave it off for the night.

He thought he could make out L4 orbiting, or possibly it was a piece of crap floating in space. "Quatre, damn you anyway. Do good, and make this all worth something."

(o)

Quatre was in his room brooding over his situation. He had come home to pick up some training before going back Earthside to attend college. He was gay, had broken up with his first real love, and was living in the land of gay-hating strangers. He was being held to a death-bed promise to marry and was about to become engaged to a girl. In addition, he couldn't tell anyone why he would refuse to marry a lovely girl like Nada, because to admit he was gay would bring dishonor on his family. Quatre's head was aching like hell. He tried to think of a way out, but nothing worked. He tried to phone Trowa, but the line kept coming up busy. Quatre thought about calling Duo next, when there was a knock on his door.

"Can I come in?" his eldest sister's voice said.

"Yes."

She entered the room and sat on the bed next to Quatre. He knew she was there to get an answer. He wanted to disappear.

"When your father died, all his children were married except for you and Zaira, his little rose. He had tried to get her married during what turned out to be his last months of life, but it never happened. He gave in to Zaira's tantrums and left her on her own. Years have passed and she's still alone. I agree that she's not miserable and is enjoying her life fully, but for how long? When she gets old, who will look after her? Who would have taken care of me after father died, had I not been married?

"You think that the ones who marry for love have no problems? Don't they have to make compromises? Love is a feeling you need to create for your partner, Quatre. And I don't think you'll get a better partner than Nada. Her family has phoned. Nada has given her consent. What do _you_ say?"

_If she was a boy, I'd think about it_, he thought to himself. How could he have sex with a girl? Quatre rose from the bed and went to the window, facing out to the dark yard. He could feel his eldest sister's eyes on his back but he didn't have the courage to face her and see her break down.

"Qadira, I won't get married," he said holding the tenor of his voice strangely neutral. _It worked for Heero. People took him seriously._

"What? But _why_? Did Nada say something? Or something happen?" she exclaimed. And, since that tactic didn't jar his tongue loose, she tried another. "What did _you_ do?"

Quatre heard her get up from the bed and stand next to him. "I can't tell you why, but I won't marry. It's my final decision," he said with the same dispassionate tone.

He could conceive of the pain others would now go through, but it was unavoidable, and not nearly as bad as it could be if he revealed his reason. He didn't have to see his sister's face to feel her disappointment and pain, to know how deeply affected she was by his decision; it was a long, crushing pain. Her slow steps and lack of words said everything. She stopped at the doorway but Quatre had no more to say. Then, he heard a thud'. When he turned, he saw his sister lying still on the floor

"Qadira," he yelled as he rushed to her side. "Qadira, wake up. Qadira!" He ran to the door and shouted for the servant. "Abdel! Someone, please, call the doctor!"

(o)

Heero completed his order and shut down his computer. Duo had been looking over his version of their guest list. When Heero slapped shut his laptop, Duo looked up. "There's a problem," Duo announced. "If Howard comes with a date, then that makes thirteen guests."

"And if he doesn't? It seems extremely unlikely that he will. You told me once how he hates coming Earthside, besides, isn't Howard single?"

"If they don't come, that means there will be thirteen people if you include you and me. Either way it's unlucky."

Heero stared at him, his blue eyes staring seriously from under his thatch of messy dark hair. "You're not superstitious. You've never been superstitious."

"No, but even so, it's not a good thing to tempt fate at the start of something so important."

Heero sighed. "Come to bed, Duo."

"I _was_ in bed, but then you got involved with whatever that laptop was doing for you… so I found my own entertainment," Duo said in a manner Heero took to be sulky.

_Duo doesn't like to share me with anyone else either,_ Heero thought to himself. He lost his battle to keep an inane smile from creeping back into place each time he fought it down.

"What's with that look?" Duo asked.

Heero had made a secret discovery, which he was proud and excited about, and was having the most difficult time concealing it from his lover. The product was one Heero had only _imagined_ existed, one to keep Duo "safe," and as soon as he had located it on the website, he had placed his order. It would take time to build to order, but not long. He had paid extra for the rush job. He had even arranged for a Preventer courier to deliver it into his hands, only slightly abusing his work privileges, because it was an emergency, for him anyway. _It would be **his** in a week! _Oh, but he wanted it to be a surprise for Duo, so he mastered his face and heart rate.

"Just looking forward to you. Now, I put everything away, so you can come to bed now," Heero said.

"The way you harp on 'bed', it sounds as if that's the only thing on your mind."

"At the moment," he said, "it is."

And proved it.

(o)

Within minutes, the family doctor, Dr. Habib, was at the Winner estate examining Quatre's sister. Everyone was anxiously waiting for the doctor to say something. Quatre paced trying his best to block the worries of the others from his mind and deal with his own.

_How could he have been so careless? _Quatre was silently calling on every deity he could remember, knowing God had served Duo well in the past, and Buddha had been good to Wufei. Allah, Quatre assumed, had abandoned him to fate a long time ago.

"She's fine," Dr. Habib announced as he appeared where Quatre and the household had gathered. "I have given her an injection to help her sleep. By morning, she will be completely fine. But her heart is weak. A small shock can take her life. Today, she was lucky and it was just a mild stress. She fell unconscious. Next time, it can take her life."

Like Quatre, Qadira was empathic. His parent's first and last children had been honored with this gift. Quatre wondered if his "cursed" gift would be the death of him, too, and then felt a wash of guilt spread from his head to his toes. _How could he be so selfish?_ In refusing Nada, he had shocked his sister. He was about to take his sister's life in order to seek his own happiness!

The house phone rang, jangling everyone's nerves. Quatre, being the closest, answered it more to shut it up than to be useful. "Hello?"

"Hello, dear boy. It's me, Mrs. Shaza. Can I talk to Qadira?" he heard a feminine voice say.

"She's resting right now. She had a small… attack."

"Oh dear Allah! Is she okay?"

"Yes, she's fine now."

"That is good news, then," the woman said, clearly relieved. "Quatre, I shouldn't be asking these things at such a time when you are upset, but I wanted to know something important."

Quatre suspected what it was. There was no use putting off the inevitable any longer. "No, it's okay. I understand. What is it you wish to ask?" he said.

"Tell me, dear boy, what do you think of Nada? Do you accept the proposal?"

Her hushed voice sounded to Quatre as if she didn't want anyone on her end to overhear. It was unusual from the girl's mother to ask the boy so direct a question. _What should he say?_

The image of his father lying on his deathbed flashed in his head, and then his mother then his stricken sister. _How many deaths could one man have on his conscience?_ Thousands. He'd murdered countless of the enemy in his time, but those were the faceless multitudes. He'd been under orders, so it was justified killing, not murder, he was told, and it helped him to live with that knowledge. However, if his sister died, he would know he was the cause. He would have murdered her. He would never be forgiven in this life, or the next.

"Hello, dear boy, are you still there?"

"Yes. I was just...reflecting. Yes, I accept the proposal," he said closing his eyes and sealing off his trampled heart.

"Oh, Quatre, you have made us so happy. May Allah bless you with a long life, my sweet son," she said. Voices of joy could be heard thought the phone handset. "The priest said that this was a very auspicious date. So now we must arrange for the engagement party!"

(o)

The week had passed and they had not received any more phone calls. Still, Rashid had taken the threat seriously and done his homework. Duo listened as Rashid ran through the incoming call record. Heero was on full soldier alert, keeping an ear cocked toward the door, as if he was expecting armed OZ agents to storm their room any minute, while at the same time keeping his eyes glued to the printout as the older man ticked off each number.

"Ah, here's one from 'no name'."

Heero snagged the paper and scanned faster. "Here's the next."

Duo skimmed over the record. "Why's Wufei's name missing?"

"Master Winner assigned his room under the name 'Sally Po.'"

Duo grinned. "_Already_ number two, heh, heh… Mr. Sally Po, heh, heh… Well, that explains why he hasn't gotten a call. I know Sally disconnected the service to his cell phone, so they'd get some peace and quiet."

"Does Chang know that?" Heero asked. "He'll be upset."

"Chang knows where to stick his dick, and that's about it." Duo laughed and wandered off, looking out the window. "There's a dude from Preventers running up the walk. 'Ro—?" He nearly had the wind knocked out of him as Heero bowled him over on his way to the door. "Shit! Just run me down will ya?"

Heero cast a "Sorry!" over his shoulder, and then jogged the rest of the way outside.

Rashid offered Duo a hand up. "Master Yuy was expecting a special delivery?"

Not that Duo knew anything about, but then he might have forgotten even if he had known. Duo frowned; he was annoyed at a weakness he had no control over. "Guess so." He wanted to change the subject, and fast. "So, Quatre hasn't gotten one of these calls either?"

"No, but then his name is unattached to any of the rooms at this time."

"But before, when he was here?"

"Just Master Trowa's. I will be continuing to monitor the incoming calls," Rashid said.

"How about now that he's on L4?"

"Nothing. My fellow corpsmen keep me informed."

"That's swell. Yeah… So, can we trace Mr. No-name's calls?"

"Certainly. I'll get back to you when I have that information. Any more calls from this number shall be recorded and an alert sent to…" Rashid checked his notes, and said, "…this number at Preventer's Headquarters."

"Sounds like you got it covered," Duo said.

He wondered what was keeping Heero and looked out the window.

"If there is nothing more?" Rashid asked, wishing to take his leave.

"Ah, sure, but you might wanna check in with Heero and Mill out there. Something's up."

Both Rashid and Duo left the cottage to join the other two men. Milliardo was pissed off. He had received a non-call from the mystery man.

"Actually," Duo said, "it makes me feel marginally better knowing it isn't some insane gay basher trying to get at us."

From the piercing blue flash of Heero's eyes on him, Duo figured he hadn't thought about the caller in that way, yet, and now he could. _Wonderful! Something else for Heero to worry about._ "Commander Une and Rashid are looking into it. For now, that's fine with me."

"I shall contact you when I have pinpointed the source of those calls," Rashid assured them.

"Oh, I'm sure that won't be necessary," Milliardo said. "The commander has her resources doing the same. Why, it's probably just some prank. Why don't you try and enjoy some of your time here at the beach."

"Certainly," Rashid said, not committing himself one way or the other.

"You might want to call Quatre and warn him, too," Duo suggested.

Rashid nodded fractionally. Obviously that had already been covered. Duo flushed and hung his head.

"Ah, sorry. I forgot for a second there." But he had remembered shortly after_. That was an improvement, wasn't it_, Duo wondered?

"Duo and I will see you all at dinner," Heero declared, as much to say "get the hell outta here now." He took Duo by the elbow and steered him around the corner of the building.

End chapter eleven.


	45. It's Another Vacation Chapter 12

**DEFYING GRAVITY**

Part Three: It's Another Vacation

**Chapter Twelve**

* * *

Trowa had two more stops before he could kick up his heels and take a nap. Quatre had filled and taken both Trowa's bag and his own to L4. Trowa thought it was probably a mistake made by Rashid, packing in haste, but it meant that he would have to purchase one of his own. He piled the new clothes Heero and Duo had bought for him into a paper bag. On his way out, he elbowed the wall-phone handle back into place, jiggling it just enough, as he made a grab for the keys.

Thus when the telephone call came in from an unknown party, Trowa had just left for the shuttle launch port to L4.

Trowa's plans were simple:

1. Buy a travel bag in town and pack his new clothes;

2. Buy a fresh battery for his cell phone, having allowed his to die one time too many, and make it functional once again.

3. Buy tickets to L4, board shuttle, and thank Rashid for the ride.

In that way, he was able to place a call from the launch pad to the friends he was leaving behind. "Yuy? Hey… Yeah, well, I thought I'd let you know where I was headed so no one would get too bent out of shape," Trowa said from the spartan passenger compartment. "I know I'm fucked, but… hold on, Yuy, gotta incoming."

He switched calls, "Yo? What'sit to ya? Hello? Hell—oh fuckit."

He switched back. "Yuy, you still holding? Nah, some 'noname' asshole hung up on me. Yeah, high voice, my first and last name, why? You, too? Damn. I bet my exploding credit card bill this month that it's some prick from that porn-ring or trade-boy club. Fuck. Une's on it--? Well, okay. What? Louder, dude, the tug-jets are turning us. Shout over the roar of the engines! Better. Not a drop. I stopped drinking the hard stuff when Quatre and I agreed not to drink. All right. He'll either like the moustache or not. _Why?_ 'Cause I need to tell Quatre something and I have to do it in person. I'm not telling you until I've told him. Yeah. Yeah, you take care of your own space-case there, kay? Bye."

Trowa Barton kicked back and closed his eyes for the long flight. Whether the decision was the right one or not, he'd made it and would see it through and live with the consequences. Life without Quatre was too bleak an existence. Nearly a week had gone by and he was already going out of his mind. Maybe Quatre could hire him on as a bootboy or driver, anything to remain close. He'd live a lie for the rest of his life, if it came to that. Pride? What pride did he need? Shit, he'd been a clown, for Christ's sake! What he needed was a reason to get up in the morning, and someone to kick him in the ass to do it.

(o)

"Where to?" Duo asked Heero.

"You wanted Wufei's assessment of the wording for our ceremony."

"I want Sally's."

"You'll get both."

"Yeah, they're both pretty opinionated."

"No, shit." Heero's smirk warmed Duo's heart.

It was an honest look on his face. Heero wasn't trying to protect Duo's feelings. Duo was tired of being treated like he was fragile or about to blow. He'd almost rather Heero knock him on his ass, than have him turn those worried eyes on him again. Wufei and Sally were on their way to the beach carrying fancy Italian sodas. They were delighted to listen to the boys' plans, so the group migrated over to one of the outdoor tables and pulled up chairs.

"Well, it sounds to me like practically everything is decided," Sally said. "I'm thrilled that you shared their ideas with Wufei and me."

Heero set a sheet of paper on the table. He looked uncertain as he flattened the folded corners with a finger. "We found this: 'A Ceremony for Civil Partnerships'—"

"Which, it says here, was 'compiled in conjunction with the Society of Registration Officers'," Duo inserted. "It ain't prayer-book language, but it includes some important things."

Heero lifted his finger, freeing the paper and inviting Sally and Wufei to read it. Sally looked it over and smiled, then handed it to Duo. "Read it aloud and see if it feels natural enough to repeat in front of a crowd."

"Okay." Duo cleared his throat, which wouldn't help, he knew, because he'd get choked up by the end anyway. "Here goes… 'I, Duo Maxwell, pledge to share my life openly with you, Heero Yuy. I promise to cherish and tenderly care for you, to honor and encourage you. I will respect you as an individual and be true to you through good times and bad. To these things I give my word.'"

Duo swallowed hard. "And then Heero would also repeat it, but with the names the other way round."

"I think it's lovely, Duo," Sally looked to Wufei, who was blushing and staring at his hands. "Wufei?"

"The wording is quite nice, especially… ah… the 'cherish and tenderly care' bit – in spite of the split infinitive."

"The split…what?" Duo squeaked.

Heero burst into a rumbling laugh that rose with volume to a near-giggle as he collapsed on the floor. Once he started, Sally couldn't hold back her laughter, or Duo. In the next moment, Wufei was chuckling at his own pedantic stuffiness.

Heero's uncontrolled outbreak was cut off by the ringing of his cell phone. "Yuy, here. Trowa? I was trying to reach you earlier. Right."

He said nothing for a few seconds, and Duo figured he was listening to a lengthy Trowa babble. He was about to ask him what was up, when Heero tensed.

"Yes, I'm still here. You want to call me later? A high-pitched man's voice? Duo and I both got calls. Milliardo, too. Whoever it is they asked for us by name. I hope you're wrong. I wanted that last mission over and done with. I called the commander and reported it. I'll add you to the list, but so far, Wufei's not been contacted. I-I said I'll call Une later and tell her that you've been contacted. Ah, Trowa? Have you been drinking? That's fine, then. It's just odd of you to take off this way, and then growing the moustache. Why does it matter what Winner thinks? Barton! That's crazy! What? Who?"

Heero looked at the phone, perplexed. "Barton hung up on me, laughing. He's on a flight to L4 to see Winner."

Now on their minds, in addition to their own 'weddings', were the two missing comrades. They all shared the silent hope that Quatre and Trowa would work things out enough to join them for Duo and Heero's happy event.

(o)

Their big day was Saturday and they hadn't much time to complete their modest preparations, but everything at the beach was "fucking marvelous." Heero walked up the shoreline from the Winner cottages to a rocky outcropping. His feet floated on air (a dreadful cliché but perhaps just forgivable in the circumstances) the entire distance. He deftly climbed to the top and closed his eyes a moment, enjoying the cool salty air buffeting his hair into an even more unmanageable mess. He pulled out his cell phone and was about to call Commander Une for an update on their mystery caller, when he noticed a man – and not as in "he was attracted to" kind of way, because this one was far from attractive. What made Heero notice him was that, in an egregious act of privacy violation, the man was staring fixedly at him.

There stood a gorilla of a man at the edge overlooking the beach from the public access parking lot. He was all muscles under a dark blue suit which looked as if it could scarcely contain them. He was wearing a white shirt and a tie which – just – held together the collar around a neck as wide as his head. For some reason he looked strangely familiar though Heero couldn't remember where he'd seen him before.

He stepped away from the cars and moved towards Heero. For such a big man he moved very lightly, walking on the balls of his feet.

"Mr. Maxwell," he said. The tone was high pitched almost refined and Heero could scarcely believe it came from the same guy, but his lips seemed to be operating in sync with the words. Perhaps the tie was constricting his larynx.

"No," Heero said, uneasily aware that, if he wanted to, it wouldn't take much from him to rearrange even a familiar face into something completely unrecognizable.

"Then you must be Mr. Yuy," he said in the same prissy voice, and suddenly it clicked. Or at least Heero knew where he'd heard the voice before. It was surely the man who had phoned him and later Duo, Milliardo, and Trowa, but who had refused to give his name.

The man moved slightly so that looking down Heero could see his shoes, small feet, small shoes, but with all that power of a gorilla behind them. He imagined the man kicking away at a head, cracking the bone, forcing the shattered pieces into the brain, and then he smiled imagining doing the same thing to the man. He made a noncommittal sound in answer to his question.

He must have taken it to be the affirmative because he said, "I have a message for you." He paused while Heero glared back, waiting. "I hear a couple of poofs are getting married this weekend," the sibilant voice went on. "This may not be a good idea. You've upset someone in a big way by all your activities, you know."

The man turned on his heel and, with a whisk and a twirl and a double chassis twist, he was out of sight into a dark automobile almost before Heero could take in what he had said. He lost no more time calling the commander of Preventer's.

"And I have placed his accent. New Germany. Duo did, actually."

"Interesting," Lady Une said, after he'd explained what had happened.

"You don't understand," he said. "He threatening our plans. What if he attacks Duo?"

"If he didn't attack you this morning, why should he attack Duo?"

Heero couldn't answer that, but he worried just the same and it bothered him throughout the rest of the day until, finally, he snapped at Milliardo over dinner.

"Pre-wedding nerves," Noin explained to her husband. "Just ignore him."

(o)

"No road as such - only a selection of wheel tracks where other vehicles have gone before. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!" The dark-skinned, bright-eyed driver of the taxi twittered to punch up his joke. He maintained the one-sided conversation for most of the hour's drive from the launch sight. "Knowing which one has the firmest surface, and knowing what to do if the vehicle hits a patch of very loose sand, is an area where it helps to have a lot of experience."

They hit another bump sending Trowa head pounding into the roof of the vehicle. "Good thing I have an experienced driver."

"The very best!" the man said beaming. He missed the sarcasm directed his way.

Trowa slumped lower in his seat, bumping his long legs on the back of the seat in front on him, and stared out the window. He was surprised by how many different kinds of desert there were. There were some with lots of loose stones and very little vegetation; other areas had fewer stones and some tussocks of vegetation; and then sometimes the car passed full-blown sand dunes. It became easier to see how the edge of the desert was not a fixed line, but a gradual change, which changed not according to the recent past climatic history, as it would have had it been Earthside, but by man's hand—all purposeful and directed. Trowa couldn't help but wonder why they just didn't make it rain more. _Why desert?_

"Our stop, sir!"

The taxi driver buzzed off in a shroud of dust, leaving Trowa standing outside a home built like a fortress with sand-swept grounds. He hefted his new bag over a shoulder and squinted into the light, looking for some indication of an entry. Palm trees in obscene numbers dotted and clustered like a mutilated forest, but with imagination he could see that they also lined a path. Okay. Hoping to find an oasis at the end, he set out on the interesting un-guided walk through the palmery and past numerous rock formations. Just like the tourist brochures said: "The Winner estate is a copy of the Earthside _Masmak_ Fortress, down to the last simulated rock."

As he strolled closer to the building he could see how few windows looked outward, he assumed to avoid the heat. He stopped outside a very imposing door with an ancient gateway. Twelve surveillance cameras had recorded his approach-- that he'd counted, so Trowa didn't bother knocking. He waited until the door unbolted and swung wide. Trowa informed the servant who opened the door that he was there to see Quatre Winner. The man blinked and asked him to step inside and follow him.

They passed beneath an intricately tiled archway, beautiful with elaborate designs, to pause a moment by a "wall of water" fountain. Trowa thought it was a beautiful greeting for new arrivals, a stark transition from the out-of-doors. He hoped he could wait there and meet Quatre beside the fountain, but the servant continued on. For a moment, Trowa held back to admire the fine plasterwork decorating the fountain with the carved inscriptions he couldn't read, and then "followed the leader" obediently.

"You may wait in here."

The servant disappeared as Trowa stepped into the dusky room. Cats spawned in the darkness of the palatial room shrouded with fabric tapestries on every wall, and where even at midday a lamp was needed. One was lit, it's fringed shade casting a puddle of gloomy light to reveal a woman sitting with a cat on her lap.

"Hello," Trowa said. "I'm a friend of Quatre's."

"Hello to you."

One cat sat aloof and princely; his tale wrapped around him in the manner of robes of state.

"Handsome cat," Trowa said, casting about for something to say, "golden like a lion." _Or Quatre's hair…_

"You've seen a real lion, I suppose."

"Actually, yes, I have. I fed the big cats in the circus and helped with the training."

"Oh!"

The subject of the cat exhausted, he thought to move the conversation along a little faster if he was ever to see Quatre. "I'm here to see Quatre Winner. We, ah, work together; have for years." His confession elicited an electric response.

"You're a friend of my brother?" the woman squeaked.

He thought they'd got that sorted out long ago. "Yes. You are his sister, then?"

"There are twenty-nine of us, but I am _second_ oldest. Call me Lina."

"Nice to meet you, Lina. Can you tell me where I can find Quatre? Is he in?"

"I assume he is. It's a party for him. I will take you to meet him."

Trowa smiled all the way to his eyes. _That's resourceful of you_. "Thank you." Starched women never were a problem for him; he always figured it would come out in the wash.

Elegant marble flooring, leading to the only window he had seen was passed up in favor of a path blanketed with richly colored carpets, thick underfoot absorbing all of the sound of his entry into a candlelit, cavernous room. Upon a table glittering with hundreds of tiny inlaid bits of gemstones was spread a lavish selection of excellent food. He noted platters piled high with fruit, dates, almonds, raisins, figs, oranges, clementines, and pomegranates, bowls embellished with sweets, and stacks of mouth-watering cakes. Trowa wondered if it was the normal spread or a special occasion, and when he could eat. Before he could ask Lina, a short dark-haired young man ran into the room.

"Kalil, good. You can take this man to see Quatre," Lina said. She introduced Kalil as Quatre's friend and a falcon trainer.

Trowa tried for an enigmatic smile. "Yo! Nice to meet you, Kalil."

"Oh! I've seen your face before! You are one of those Gundam Pilots. The facial hair, it makes a pretty good disguise."

Not good enough, apparently.

End chapter twelve.


	46. It's Another Vacation Chapter 13

**DEFYING GRAVITY**

Part Three: It's Another Vacation

**Chapter Thirteen**

* * *

**Author's note: **

**I am sorry for not replying to your e-mails and reviews this past week. So, if you have written and heard nothing, you are not alone. I have been out of internet service and had a 'friend' update once or twice last week for me. Actually, I have been at the fourth out-of-state family funeral in as many weeks with a lot of driving, responsibility, and emotional havoc. I am back, but with over 300 emails to sort through it may take me a few days, not to mention laundry and... home life. Now, I know this story is a little...dark, but please, dear readers, trust me to bring the romance to a good conclusion in the end-- and the end is near. Just bear with me. Oh, and be gentle with the critiques this week. I'm a little sensitive and weepy yet. **

**Thanks for your understanding. --KS  
**

* * *

Quatre slipped the golden engagement ring over Nada's finger. It was as if he was trapped inside a body that was no longer under his control. He just stared as the matching ring slid on his finger. It suddenly felt very heavy and tight. The little ring made him feel as if he was suffocating. It felt like a noose tightening around his neck. _No, that was the necktie._ But he let none of this show. He just hid his ache behind a smile. 

"They make such a lovely pair, don't they? Now, both of you are engaged. Thinking about another but your fiancée is a sin. Okay?" his eldest sister said.

Qadira was now up and feeling fine. She was, in fact, glowing, proud of finding the perfect match in such a short time. What an achievement! _She should continue to run the company_, Quatre thought, not him. He had failed to choose his own life mate!

Quatre's sister was thrilled when she heard that Quatre had agreed to the proposal. She was almost jumping from joy. The attack forgotten, she was doing her best to welcome the Shaza family for the engagement and engagement ceremony, which was finally started. The two families were to bind themselves together. They exchanged gifts containing clothes, food, jewels, and flowers for the newly engaged couple. It was a way of welcoming each other into their family. Quatre paid Mr. Shaza a huge dowry for the right to take Nada for his wife. Everything was as tradition dictated and very formal so his discomfort and stunned behavior went unnoticed.

"Congratulations! We have become relatives," Quatre heard his sister say to Mr. Shaza as they hugged. He forgot who it was they were talking about, for a second. It was a brief respite.

Shortly thereafter, the priest arrived.

"The children are now engaged. And we need to fix the marriage date. Can you tell us an auspicious date?" Mr. Shaza asked the aged priest.

"Let me see their horoscopes," he said before immersing himself in the astrological sign and symbols that created messages, meaningful ones to those that believed. "The Saturn of the boy is quite heavy, and will gain strength in about one month. The nearest date is that of three days. After that, Saturn will enter the seventh house and there is no date for three years."

"Three days? Isn't that too early?" Mrs. Shaza said. "How can we prepare for something so important as that in only three days?"

"We'll make it work together. There are so many caterers. Anyway, three years is too far. And I want Nada to become my daughter-in-law as soon as possible," Quatre's sister said. "If I could, I would bring her to my house tomorrow." She kissed Nada's forehead affectionately.

"Well, you're the bridegroom side. Your wish is our command," Mr. Shaza said jokingly, "In three days, you'll take our Nada from us, won't you Quatre?"

"Hey, Quatre, look who's here," Kalil said from his left. "Another one of your Gundam pilots. This one should be called _Peridot_ for his green eyes!"

Quatre turned and met an extremely familiar face, but with a moustache, and one which looked quite bemused by the atmosphere. "Trowa," he uttered softly.

"You have come at the right moment, my brother's friend from Earthside." Quatre's eldest sister embraced Trowa in her excitement. "Quatre's wedding date has just been set to occur in three days."

Quatre watched as Trowa's puzzled expression turned into one of disbelief. All the color faded around him. He avoided Trowa's eyes; he couldn't even speak.

"Why don't you freshen up, Trowa? Dinner will be starting soon." Qadira could be good-natured and polite when she chose.

Luckily, Quatre's good breeding took charge where his brain failed him. "Come, I'll show you to my room," Quatre volunteered.

He just hoped that he would be able to explain himself though he didn't know what to say. Trowa's disillusioned expression was still in his mind and the stab of pain was real. _How could he do that to him?_

As soon as the bedroom door closed behind them, Trowa spoke, his voice quite unlike his usual voice. "Congratulations, Quatre."

At first, Quatre didn't know if it was sarcasm dripping from the words or anger and pain. "Oh, Trowa," Quatre started but was stopped before he could choke out another word.

"A week I've been away from you, just a single, fucking we-ek." Trowa's voice broke. He rubbed his hands over his face and started again. "I was in agony there, thinking about you every second. I left everything to come to you. I'm over my _over-_limit on my credit card getting here. A-and what do I see? You're engaged to some _girl_! You're getting married _next week_? You hadn't even thought of _informing _me?"

At least the door was closed. Quatre didn't want anyone to hear them. "Trowa..."

"Why, Quatre? _Why?_ How could you do this to me? I know I wasn't ever good enough for you, but didn't I support you at every step? Didn't I help you when you had difficulties? Didn't I love you enough? Or wasn't I good enough for you in your bed? Tell me, Quatre! I wasn't so bad that I deserved…this, was I?""

Trowa broke down into tears. Quatre could not remember ever having seen Trowa cry or heard him speak to him so accusingly. He clenched at his chest as the pain sank in and crushed his heart.

"H-how could you do this to me?" Trowa whispered.

Quatre dropped his head and stared at his empty lap. He knew that he was fighting against tears. He had to. He had to go back out and face a roomful of guests pretending to be happy. Seeing Trowa in such pain, he felt as if thousands of needles were pricking his heart, and he understood what a thousand deaths a second meant. It wasn't because his life was being tied to someone else or that he was on the verge of losing his identity, it was because Trowa was hurt and he was the reason. He felt so helpless: he couldn't even comfort his ex-boyfriend.

(o)

Duo sat on the bed, dead center. From where Heero stood, he appeared to be in a good mood. They were to have a cookout on the beach with the others that night, which Duo adored, and plenty of time to play in private, which he adored, too. So, now was the time to spring his surprise.

"So, what's that?" Duo asked.

Heero carried the plain brown cardboard shipping box and sat at the foot of the bed. "Open it."

A knife appeared in Duo's hand faster than you could say "kiss my ass," and he cut through the seals. "Not even a hint?" Duo smiled.

He loved surprises delivered to him in bed, Heero knew. Heero shook his head slowly and hid his eyes beneath his dark shaggy bangs. "Go on."

"'S'okay…" Duo paused, struck dumb a moment after peeking inside the carton. "Ah…what the hell kinda contraption is this?" Duo leveled his eyes to catch Heero's. what he held up by a single finger around a stainless steel and leather band had an attached front shield concealing a hollow, metal tube, and was connected to the rear by a pair of chains. "Heero?"

Heero leaned back on his elbows and smiled confidently. "There are instructions inside."

Duo dropped the leather and steel with a clattering reminiscent of restraints in a dungeon, and found a manual. He read as far as the cover then dropped it like a hot potato. "A male chastity belt! For the love of-- Fuck!"

Heero chuckled. "You should cultivate a sense of humor."

From Duo's expression it was impossible for Heero to guess what he might do next. A kaleidoscope of moods flashed across his face. Often Duo's eyes and mouth didn't even match. Disgust, for sure, was one of those feelings. Shock that Heero would order such a thing? Probably. Insult? Likely, but was it because of the object or what it implied? Heero moved his arms apart and his knees up towards his abdomen protectively so as to improve his chances should Duo decide to take him on and punch him. Duo drew a deep breath and let out a loud laugh, followed by gales of laughter.

"_My _sense of humor? Shit, I'm the King of Comedy! And that coming from you… The Prince of Profoundity. It's damned hysterical."

"Why do you get to be a king and I'm second fiddle as a prince? You can be just as easily the Joker to my King of --"

"King of Kinky," Duo finished for him. "Which brings us around to this. Man, what were you thinking? No, God no, don't tell me."

"Protection."

Duo shut his mouth and stared for a full minute before talking. "Protecting me, or you?"

"It prevents an erection in the down position, but a full one is possible when erect, and a butt plug locked into place prevents penetration."

"A _butt plug_? Shit! You want me to wear this?" Duo poked at the shield. "It's… it stores my dick… pointing down?"

"I used some measurements from your clothes, waist and all, the distance from the location of the belt to the crotch piece, and others like penis circumference I guessed." Heero raised a hand curved into an open "C". "As to the up-or-down-pointing version, I had to decide. I was asked how you stored your penis when it was relaxed. I said upwards leaning over to the left. So that's how it is going to be in the belt, too. Oh, just rotate that tube. Like that."

Duo sent "the tube," which would channel his male member, spinning. It stopped pointing down insistently.

"Have you ever heard the term 'blood-and-flesh-penis'?" Heero asked.

Duo gave the cock-holder another spin. "You kiddin' me?"

"No. A 'blood penis' is rather small when flaccid. It grows with the blood flow, making it erect. A 'flesh' penis is about the same size erect or flaccid it only gets hard. You have a flesh—"

"A flesh and blood really big dick that you wanna lock down in this…thing? Why?"

Heero though he heard a touch of anguish enter Duo's voice. "To keep you safe."

"Safe."

"Safe from others. No one could force you, take you, hurt you."

Duo's eyes narrowed and he looked the chains over. "I think this is about you being territorial. You think I'll go tom-catting around on you or something when you go back to work. I stay in town, doing my training stuff, and you go out on missions, and you really think I'd starting fucking around? Me? I've lost your trust?!"

"No! No, nothing like that! Oh, god, no don't think that! You, I trust. You don't realize how attractive you are, Duo. Homosexual men notice you. I mean, you pickup _looks_ like some guys pick up sailors off a ship. I've seen men come out of the closet over you--"

"That was a dressing room--"

"They flock to touch you, be near you."

"I'm not him any more. I'm not _Scythe_!"

But Heero wasn't so sure. "You are very striking, Duo, and getting more so."

Duo grinned and stretched his back, hands clasped behind his head, giving Heero a lot of well-toned body to admire. "You think so?"

"Yes." Heero couldn't keep the hitch from his breath.

"So, wearing this," he rattled the chains again, "would make you worry less about me?"

"Yes."

"Damn it, 'Ro. You gotta be the most possessive man alive. Well, I guess not, if there's a business in these." He let out a deep sigh of resignation.

Heero guessed that he was close to acceptance. "You okay?"

"Yeah. I started to get hard just at the thought of wearing one and not having any control of my best friend, Mr. Dick."

"I'll help you with it. It takes some experimenting to get the fit right."

"Heero, where'd you find this? I can't see you walking up to a counter, fact-to-face to some man, talking about the size of my dick."

"Internet."

"What kind of site?"

Heero concentrated on adjusting the curvature of the waistband. There was some degree of flexibility with the belt. "I want to adjust this as we go, but it will 'mould' itself to your body after a few days of continuous wearing."

"Days! I'll be damned if I wear this an hour, 'Ro. It rubs here on my hip bone."

Heero bent the metal with ease, immediately making the fit more comfortable. He powdered his hands and applied some to Duo's thighs. "A little talcum between the legs helps long-term wear."

"I told ya not to worry about 'long-term'."

"Some men wear women's nylon underwear to avoid chafing."

"Not me! I ain't a deviant!"

Duo watched as Heero switched between the three possible options for the vertical positioning of the sheath. "How does that feel?" Heero asked.

"Okay."

Heero smiled up at him, his nose and mouth inches from Duo's crotch. "Try to remain limp for me while I fit this next part. The simple rule is: do not get aroused or you may have to wait a bit."

Duo frowned down at him and watched as Heero spread a little baby oil as lubricant inside the sheath. When he reached for Duo's cock, Duo patted his hand away, "Then you better let me do that," and fit his penis into the sheath.

"Thanks," Heero murmured as he took over again. He lifted the main guard up, engaged the spigot on the front of the sheath into the slotted opening on the main guard, and slid the sheath down while simultaneously pulling up the main guard to secure it to the waistband.

"At this point I should be able to secure the waistband lock. There is only one correct position for the key to enter the lock and it must not be over tightened. I just pinch the plates together and turn the key until there is no movement and the lock is suitably tight. After that, the sheath lock can be attached. The sheath can be vertically adjusted in position, without the need to remove the belt, you see—"

"Mr. Technician, test the lock and keys first," Duo said. "You are not locking me into this without knowing the keys work."

"Actually, the first thing I'd do before letting you wear this for any length of time is," Heero smiled again, "jack you off."

"Prick!"

(o)

"Edwards, you've got the results on those phone traces." The way Commander Une said it made it a statement of fact.

"Only just. Agent Barton contacted us just hours ago about another call to his cell phone. I wanted to verify that it was from the same source, and it was. All the calls have been going through satellite 766, which actually made it easier to narrow the source band to New Germany. Should I contact the field office there for a pick up?"

Her jaw tightened. The cleanup of the New Germany office was incomplete. One of the agents had been hauled in for working the other side, accepting bribes, and hiding evidence. Two others had been recommended for retraining.

"No, we shall handle the operation from here and notify them after the local constabulary has made the arrests. I want you and Moore and, of course, your partners Ramir, and Williams."

She buzzed her secretary. "Sit down," she told Blake Edwards, who was about to make his escape. "Carol, I want a conference room. Yes. Would you contact Agents Moore, Ramir, and Williams for an assignment in two hours. Correct. Agent Edwards will drop off a file for copying on his way out. Thank you."

Une stood, signaling an end to their meeting. "Two hours room 312. We'll plan what action you will take. On your way out, ask Cathy to make the travel arrangements for this evening's flight to New Germany for the four of you. Might as well get that rolling."

"Yes, ma'am," Edwards said, adding a snappy little bow before exiting. This would be the first international mission he led, and he was terribly excited. He couldn't wait to tell Dorothy Catalonia, his current girlfriend. Things were looking up. If he solved this and saved the day, he'd likely get a raise. His life was coming together. Wow.

Une was taking her next call, so he left with haste. "Hi, Carol. The commander wants copies for all the agents of this," he said and handed her his file. "And reservations to New Germany for the four of us."

End chapter thirteen.


	47. It's Another Vacation Chapter 14

**DEFYING GRAVITY**

Part Three: It's Another Vacation

**Chapter Fourteen**

* * *

When he heard the audible "tic" of the lock closing, Duo gasped. "Shit!" Such was Duo's opinion as he gazed down at his inaccessible penis.

"Damn, you look hot," Heero said, gazing upon Duo reverently. "We can get the rest later."

"The _rest?_" Duo was practically in shock. Masturbation was impossible; the belt completely prevented it. He just might be able to take a piss. _What if something happens to Heero or the keys?_ "Gimme those keys!"

"You're not taking it off already?" Heero asked.

"Maybe!"

"You trust me, don't you?"

"Gimme **one** of the keys, then… Damn you anyway! You could lose one, or fall off a cliff, then where would I be?" He was shaking.

"Not to mention airport security," Heero said with a sly smile.

Duo blanched. "I-I hadn't even thought of that. KEY!"

"How about we agree to store the second key in safe place when we get home. Or… we could talk to Chang. He could –"

"AAAAAH! No fuckin' way is 'Fei gonna have the key to my assets!"

"All right. I wasn't going to tell him what the key was for. Walk around, turn… Are you comfortable?"

Heero's soothing tone worked to calm Duo. He had been warned by the seller on the website: "_There will be many excuses, received from the wearer, as to why the belt should be removed, but the only genuine one is this possibility of broken skin. There is no reason why the belt can not be worn indefinitely._" His touches were feather-light almost ticklish as he inspected the fit of the chastity belt apparatus.

"We should check the skin at the base of the penis and between the legs, where the sheath applies a little pressure. It may be a little bruised and perhaps even discolored, but the skin should not be broken."

At that moment, Milliardo chose to knock on their door. "You two still planning to join everyone for the weenie roast on the beach? Jimmy's expecting you, remember."

"Be right there!" Duo shouted back. He cast about wildly for his clothes. "Okay, get me out of this_, sport_."

Heero stood with his blade-thin smile widening. "Let's see how it does a little longer." He tossed a pair of cutoff jeans in Duo's direction and headed for the door, keys jiggling in his pocket.

"Heerrrrrooo," Duo growled. "I didn't think it was possible that a friend would do such an evil thing to another friend!"

"We are more than friends, Duo. We can do far more than just friends."

Heero circled back and placed a firm kiss on Duo's lips, his body solid, hard, determined. "I love you. Trust me?"

Duo nodded curtly. "You'd better make it good, real memorable like, when this comes off."

Heero kissed him again, hard enough to bruise. "Promise, babe."

(o)

Charring his weenie-on-a-stick over an open fire on the beach, Duo realized that he was ever mindful of his own caged cock. Its inaccessibility to him, his horniness, and the cage's physical presence created a wild mélange of feelings.

Never had he felt so sexually alive as when he wasn't in control of his sex organ. He spent much of the evening trying to take his mind off his hot cock and balls. Soon, there was no room left in the cage. His cock had filled up the space and never retreated. Never had he been so at odds with himself.

"Something wrong?" Wufei asked. "You and Yuy haven't spoken a word since you've come out."

Duo flashed him a deadly look. "Come out" meant something altogether to Duo now. There was one thing on his mind, and it wanted to come out now.

"Your weenie's on fire," Heero said as he placed his perfectly browned hotdog on a bun and took a bite. "Shove over, Chang. Bun?"

Duo caught the flying hotdog bun in one hand while waving his stick around like a flaming torch in the other. "I'll give you buns," he muttered beneath his breath. "If I were home all the time with this thing on I would go mad. At least work takes my mind off sex some of the time."

"I heard that," Wufei said, adding a snort. "We had an agreement about sex-talk at mealtime, which operates here as well as at home."

"I can help you with that," said Heero to Duo, ignoring Wufei completely.

"Just get the frigging cage off," Duo said, teeth gritted then louder he said, "I got this hard-on trying to develop, but not able to—"

Wufei turned his beady little eyes on to the both of them. "There is no better way to end this torture than by diving into the ice-cold ocean."

That was all the warning Duo got. One second, he was dousing the fire on his weenie with catsup; the next, he was unceremoniously flung over Wufei's back on his way to the water.

"Hey! My dinner!" Duo screamed. "Ouch! Put me down you fucking monster!"

"Du-o's going into the wa-ter! Du-o's going into the wa-ter!" Jimmy chanted.

"'Fei! The God of Death will kill you!" Duo screamed. He couldn't squirm too much because he was afraid the metal shield or cage might shift and cut off his balls.

"Me, too! Me, too!" Jimmy chortled.

Heero swept the giggling boy off his feet and carried him upside down. He stomped behind Wufei, his feet fitting into Wufei's prints perfectly.

Milliardo, Sally, Lucrezia and her baby stood to watch. "I've always wanted to do that," Mill said wistfully.

Noin patted his shoulder. "You're the grown up here, darling. You have to repress your urges."

"I meant, _drown_ Maxwell."

"I know dear," she smiled and sauntered down the beach toward the water's edge, hips swaying. "It's too late for anything else."

"-- kill youuuuuuuuuu—!" Duo cried, and then there was a big splash.

(o)

The next morning after Trowa' arrival, Quatre sat on a huge boulder and contemplated the scene in front of him. It was the ruin of what had once been a huge stone estate; at least, that is what it appeared to be. Actually it was a copy of the ruins of the ruling Al Saud family building in Saudi Arabia, Earthside, complete with dungeons. The roof and Western walls had long ago caved in, making it vulnerable to attacks from sand and wind. It had changed since his last visit. The North and Eastern walls, which a few years ago stood proud and tall, were now reduced to a heap of bricks lying on the floor. He wondered how he had forgotten about this place. He used to come here a lot when he was younger, especially when facing dilemmas. It was his place where he sought refuge to think. Very few people came here and there was this calm and serene atmosphere here, which always pleased him.

Quatre stared at this wreckage and wondered if this was the future of his dreams, his family, his love... Everything that had happened to him seemed so surreal. A week ago, he was living happily with Trowa and now, it had been replaced by a nightmare. Every time he thought it would get better, it just worsened. It seemed as if he was holding a handful of sand; the tighter he held, the more it slipped away.

_What caused this disaster? Who was responsible for this?_ Only one answer fit both, and it was himself. Yes, he was the one to blame for complicating his life—_ruining _it. Quatre winced at the irony of his sitting amongst ruins a ruined man. If he repeated that word one more time he'd get a headache. He groaned thinking once again that he'd _ruined _his mind. Had he been more decisive and brave in the beginning, he would have never seen this day. But the truth was that he remained a coward. Yes, he was a coward.

Perhaps if he had come out to the press before going back home, he might not have faced such a situation. He could have at least told his sisters about his sexuality. Qadira would have had a bad initial reaction but she would have certainly understood in the end, or at least Zaida, or Lina, or, well, especially Zaira, his youngest sister who was still single and independent.

_How could he have not thought of all this before?_ Because he didn't want to ruin his chances at leading his family's company. In his fear of being rejected, he had hidden himself inside a shell.

Now it was too late. _What is the use of all these ruminations?_ On one side, there was his eldest sister living on a thin thread. Any shock might be fatal for her. His coming out would most certainly kill her. When Quatre thought about his sister giving up her freedom all these years to maintain the Winner family name and to hold a position for him in the family business, and the way he was repaying that, he felt ashamed, ashamed of his very own existence. Would he be able to build a home with Trowa on the grave of his sister and his father and mother, too?

On the other side, there was Trowa, the one he loved and the one who loved him unconditionally. If he didn't come out and ended up married to someone else, he wondered, what would become of Trowa? He would be devastated, and he certainly didn't deserve all this. Betraying a person like Trowa was just unjust, as Wufei would say. Wufei never would have done such a cowardly, dastardly deed. Trowa had always put Quatre before everything. He never thought about his own needs first. Quatre knew that Trowa would sacrifice himself, if he asked. _Wouldn't it be unfair to ask Trowa to pay the price for his cowardice?_

And then there was Nada. Every time Quatre thought of her, he felt a pinch in his heart. She didn't deserve to have landed in all this confusion. She had never hurt him, but Quatre knew that either way she would be hurt. Marrying her and making false promises would be like playing with her trust and emotions. And if he came out and ended their alliance, he would be leaving her halfway. A girl, whose engagement had broken, would have to face the harsh words of the society on L4. Either way, he would be hurting her.

Crying was unmanly, he told himself over and over, but the barrier he had erected finally collapsed and the tears flowed. He brought his knees to his chest and rested his chin on them as he sobbed. For the first time in his life, he felt so helpless. He was so powerless that he couldn't even commit suicide. This would bring grief to all the ones he loved- Trowa, his family and Nada, too. Perhaps that was his destiny- to bring misery to others.

After a few minutes, he felt movement behind him but he didn't even turn to see who it was. He was too busy trying to stop the tears. The too-familiar pair of strong arms embraced him. He tried to move away at first, thinking that he didn't deserve this consolation, but Trowa only firmed him grip.

"One of the servants led me out here to find you."

"I'm really sorry, Trowa," Quatre sobbed.

"Don't… It's okay, love. Don't…," he whispered in his ears. "I'm sorry about yelling yesterday, too. I was harsh with you. I know you would never hurt me intentionally. I should have talked with you. I should have at least tried to understand you. Or called ahead and warned you I was coming! Now, I've just made your problems worse."

"I love you Trowa!" Quatre said as he tightened his hold on Trowa's hand. Their exchange last night still haunted him.

"I know, Quatre. I love you too." He ground his face into the soft golden hair. "I simply had to come."

Then, Quatre told Trowa everything that had happened from the start- from his sister's illness to his engagement with Nada.

"Everything happened so quickly that I didn't even have time to think properly. I'm really sorry that I didn't tell you anything. You were right yesterday. I should have at least informed you. Right now, I don't know what to do. I'm at a loss," Quatre said. "I want to do the right thing by my family and honor my father's last wishes, but the cost! Leaving you was terrible, but to think that there was no possible way to be with you again… it's unbearable! Unthinkable!"

"You came for job training, not to get married. All this extra's been loaded on you. Yeah, you're in a very difficult situation, but it's you who has to make the decision and quick!" Trowa said. "I – I don't want to cause you more worries. But you have to decide fast what you'll do. I know it's awful, but you have to do it. And one more thing- whatever you decide, I'll always accept it. Don't forget that I love you."

Saying that, Trowa kissed Quatre's head affectionately. Quatre found tears on his cheeks, but he knew Trowa was right. He had to make a decision soon.

"Uh, hold on a minute," Trowa said. "Call. Probably, Yuy." He flipped open his cell phone without checking the ID. "Yo." He shut it off instantly. "Fuck it all _again._ I don't need this, too."

(o)

"Quatre! Quatre!" a familiar voice shouted.

When he regained his wits, Quatre found himself in bed with Trowa. It was dark and he'd just had a nightmare. _Well, at least he wasn't yet married, _he thought with a shiver running across his bare shoulders He felt the familiar sad feeling return when he realized that his engagement with Nada and everything else was still very real. After the first night apart, Quatre begged Trowa to share his bed again, and Trowa was unable to deny him when Quatre pleaded and told him that he was like a balm to his needy heart.

"Are you ok? You were thrashing and twisting," Trowa said, rubbing Quatre's back in a soothing manner.

"I dreamed that I was at my wedding. You were there, too, and you were crying. Suddenly, someone told everybody present that I was gay. Nada was crying and my sister died," Quatre whispered. He touched his face, but it was dry. "My real-life nightmares are now following me all the way into my dreams."

Trowa hugged him reassuringly, and they slept with Quatre enclosed in Trowa's arms, surrounded by his strength. When Trowa was sure Quatre was asleep, he checked the time, noted that it was an indecent time to call the Sanc area, and so, placed a call to Une's hot line to report that he'd received another phone call from the mystery caller. After that, he cuddled close to Quatre until morning.

(o)

Edwards took the call after beating the pavement in New Germany.

"Change of plans," Une snapped. "L4 stat! You'll just make the next shuttle."

He could hear his commander's secretary shout in the background, "Tickets will be waiting at the launch pad. Good luck, Agent Edwards." Carol typed, made phone calls, and kept Une informed simultaneously.

Edwards said, "Yes, ma'am!"

"The basic rule of fighting when you are one up against many is: divide and conquer. When Agent Yuy first reported, all the other agents, including Director Milliardo Peacecraft, and Quatre Winner were on Winner Corporation grounds at the beach. Now, Mr. Winner has gone to L4, alone. Agent Yuy suggested that we intercept our mystery person there, and I tend to believe his hunches."

"Oh, ah, I don't think he's alone, ma'am," Edwards said. "That last call I got from Agent Barton came from the Winner estate on L4."

Une looked at him askance without slowing her gait. "That could be both good and bad. Now they are both in danger. I doubt anyone would attempt an attack at the beach."

"No, I was there," Edward put in, remembering the wedding party and night he spent dead drunk at the guest house. The left the next morning with his date, Dorothy Catalonia.

"I was, too, and I thought the Maguanacs security was tight. I don't know about the L4 estate, but I'll assume it must be good."

"Which means that Agent Barton will be most vulnerable traveling to and from the shuttle base to the estate."

"Which is why I'm sending the four of you to L4." Une stepped up her pace to catch the elevator down. "Getting either Mr. Winner or Agent Barton to answer their cell phones and warning them of a possible confrontation is tantamount at this point."

(0)

Quatre had tried to talk to his sisters, Kalil, and even Nada, he explained to Trowa, but he couldn't get the words to come out. "I became so weak each time that I'm just disgusted with myself. Am I just fighting against my destiny? Should I simply accept defeat? Perhaps, that's what my fate is - to marry Nada."

Trowa threw his legs over the side of the bed, where they'd been lying quietly together before dinner, and pulled Quatre along. "Fresh air might help clear your head."

"Okay."

They stumbled over the thick carpeting on their way to the courtyard door. The view from the main rooms of the courtyard, with ironwork-covered windows opening into the massive atrium, was limited to a roofless inner garden. The garden was ringed by a startlingly white colonnade with archways blushing pink in the sunset. The central garden was dense with rose bushes.

"Beautiful," Quatre heard Trowa say from behind him. He felt a pair of familiar strong arms wrap him in a secure warmth.

"Each evening, the sun dissolves in an immense ocean yet each morning it rises shining and unscarred," Quatre said.

Trowa said nothing and a silence reigned.

Quatre confessed to Trowa the reasons behind his decision to marry. He gave no further defense of his actions, nor did Trowa demand any. They stayed like that in each other's arms for the last time. It was their last night together, one which they wouldn't forget.

"I'm going to miss you," Trowa said as he stared at the orange sky, "the moments we spent together, our silly talks, your irritating manner of waking up early and shaking your wet hair over me to wake me up, and the life we had. You often told me that I was a fabulous person and that you were really lucky to have me. The truth is that you're just too demanding of yourself and I've been the lucky one to have met you. Maybe you didn't realize it but you always loved me despite my shortcomings like… never doing the wash or my last episode with booze. You're a great person, Quatre," his voice trailed off and then he wiped any threatening tears and put a large smile on his face, "Sorry, I became quite sentimental. Tomorrow you're going to marry. It's going to be a great turning point in your life. You should forget everything and enjoy yourself. Do you have bachelor's parties here? You need to--"

Quatre hugged Trowa and whispered, "Don't force yourself to smile so much that the tears you're trying to hide spill out, Trowa."

"I know it would be very difficult for us to keep in contact," Trowa said in a wavering voice as he broke the embrace. "Just forget everything, Quatre, and be happy."

Quatre dropped his arms and stared at his bare feet.

"I know I no longer have the right, and the place isn't the most suitable one, but can I kiss you one last time?" Trowa asked, his voice soft and velvety.

Quatre, for the first time since he came to L4, didn't care about other people and kissed Trowa. It was the most painful kiss he'd ever had. While he tried to make the kiss last forever, he felt like a child desperately trying to cling on the hem of his nanny's apron. Before Quatre could do anything, Trowa broke the kiss and turned away. Watching Trowa's back dissolve back into the gloom of the room, Quatre felt like it was a final goodbye.

End chapter fourteen.


	48. It's Another Vacation Chapter 15

**DEFYING GRAVITY**

Part Three: It's Another Vacation

**Chapter Fifteen**

* * *

Trowa called the taxi service requesting the same driver as before. His thoughts were on Quatre, his dilemma, and their unsatisfying solution. Was he running away too afraid to assert himself and leaving Quatre to think marrying this woman was his only choice? He had wanted to be supportive, but was he just relinquishing Quatre into the clutches of these people who, although they was family and past friends, were still in recent years total strangers who knew nothing about what it was that Quatre needed or wanted?

He considered turning around and marching right back into the fortress, demanding that Quatre acknowledge him, and then haul his ass back to Sanc. Heero would do it over Duo, but Heero had balls and a suicidal tendency. Trowa lacked Wufei's seemingly unlimited self-assurance and Duo's gritty tenacity. Also, he was positive that Quatre deserved better than what he had to offer, and he couldn't replace the job Winner Corporation had waiting for him, or the family. He was just a step up from a street cop who could offer the heir to the Winner estate a rocky, gay relationship. Removing temptation, leaving was best, Trowa decided.

By the time the taxi arrived, he was deep into his dark thoughts. He dumped his bag into the back seat and blindly fell in alongside it. "Shuttle launch," he said, in case the driver hadn't gotten the message when he'd made the appointment.

(o)

_Dear Quatre,_

_I know I promised that I would be there during your wedding. I tried to prepare myself, but I couldn't. I can't watch you becoming the half of another person. I was afraid of breaking down during the ceremony and causing you many problems. _

_So I'm going back._

_Don't be sad, Quatre. I don't blame you at all, and neither should you blame yourself. Everything that has happened wasn't in your hands. Perhaps the stars were jealous of our love, or perhaps our love wasn't meant to exist. Go, Quatre, and live your life. Be happy, if not for yourself, at least for me. _

_Bye my friend and thanks for all that you have given me,_

_Always yours,_

_Trowa_

_P.S- Don't forget to dry your hair after having a bath or I'll come back and kick your ass._

Quatre looked at the letter, his hair fresh from the shower dripping onto his chest and back. Nothing more was written, but the traces of dried tears left on the white paper told him everything. He crushed the letter to his chest and squeezed shut his eyes, fighting for control. His groom's clothes lay undisturbed on his bed. He wouldn't cry, he promised himself. There were no arms to hold him, and he was so alone in the crowded world.

(o)

"We've landed on L4 now," Edwards reported to his commander. "Williams is bringing our secured car around. But I got a new report from New Germany. You won't believe how the caller got their phone numbers."

"Tell me," Une demanded her tone grim.

Edwards looked over his notes. "You aren't going to like this."

"I don't like any of this."

"This is just what I deduce from the report from the new Preventer's Agent in Charge—"

"Just tell me."

"Neither Gunter's place nor Milliardo's were sealed or properly cleared of evidence."

"You discovered that when you were there. What's new?"

"The home phones were not collected and stored by the agency—that's according to the inventory lists I just received. They couldn't find them when we asked for them a day ago. And since both residences were broken into, again, as we found, and the phones were missing when we checked, we can only guess that whoever broke in, stole the phones and have been able to trace call histories based on the numbers."

"Dear God." Commander Une jotted a note to herself to have the recently demoted Preventer's Agent in Charge Klaus Bauer brought up on charges for negligence and neglect of duty. "When do you arrive on at the Winner estate?"

"One hour, less if the roads are good. Oh, Williams is here and says forty-five minutes regardless of the road conditions. He ordered us a SUV with crash plows."

"Hurry."

(o)

Quatre watched his reflection in the mirror. When he was younger, he often wondered if he would ever have the opportunity to wear a bridegroom's attire.He dressed himself in the white, silk-brocade suit. His was really beautiful with a fine cut and shining with beads threaded into the design, making him look ethereal with his pale face and golden hair. He fastened the decorative sword at his waist, one his father had once worn, and stared at the turban resting on the bureau, then back up into the mirror. He didn't look anything less than a medieval prince. A pauper prince, he corrected himself. Beautiful as it was, it felt very suffocating and seemed to weigh thousands of kilos without Trowa by his side. The beggar sharing his lowly meal with the one he loved was certainly more beautiful and lucky than he was.

"Everyone will be left stunned when they see you."

Quatre turned as Qadira entered his room. "Making sure I haven't run away?" he asked. "Or run my self through with the sword?"

"Don't be silly. When I see you like this, I realize how much you have grown up. You have become a man, a man who's going to have his own family. I'm really proud of you, my brother." She grabbed Quatre's shoulder affectively. She looked pleased.

(o)

Trowa stared unseeing at the receding line of palms fading into the dunes, lines of dust. _Lines of dust?_ He had been in the car nearly half and hour before looking into the rear view mirror and noticing the driver was a different one from before. He wasn't even of Arab extraction. His heart rate stepped up. _**Lines**__ of dust?_ Lines of dust billowed behind vehicles on convergent courses with theirs, one on either side. He checked his cell phone. It was off. He turned it on and read messages, several of them from Agent Edwards, Yuy, Milliardo, and Commander Une. He didn't need to read them to surmise that he was in danger.

(o)

"We are on route to the Winner estate. Approximate ETA thirty minutes. You'd think they'd pave the roads here," Edwards rumbled.

"Keeps the riff-raff out," Une said. "Barton is not answering his cell phone. He could be injured already."

"He probably turned it off after that last mystery call, knowing him," Edwards replied. "What's that Williams?" he called to the agent in front of him.

Edwards returned to his call. "Commander, converging vehicles in sight."

"Yours is bullet-proof, but his is not, remember that," she warned.

"Roger, ma'am!"

(o)

Trowa felt the car's speed slow fractionally to match that of the flocking vehicles. He was unarmed, but he bet his driver was packing. "Don't slow down."

"You are wanted alive," said the driver, his accent thick New German. "Cooperate and you will be."

Trowa knew then that the driver, and possibly his abductors, didn't know of his Gundam fighter past. His eyes gleamed. It was nice to have an edge. He calculated the distances he needed to move and the degree of flexibility in his long limbs seconds before making his move. In a burst of energy, his body moved fluidly into the front passenger seat. One arm reached across the driver's chest to his neck. As his grip tightened around the driver's neck, the man's hands left the wheel to pry his fingers away.

The car lunged to the wrong side of the road, propelling them both into the side of the car. Trowa threw his weight into his moves pushing harder on the windpipe and dragging the man away from the door toward the opposite side of the car, rising out of his seat to grasp the steering wheel. The man was large and heavy and slow to move. He wasn't so stupid not to go for his gun either, but Trowa expected that. He punched the man hard to his soft gut, knocking out the last of his air.

Keeping one eye on the road and the other on the driver was all Trowa could handle. Skirting the edge of his awareness was the buzzing of his cell phone and the other cars closing in. He concentrated a moment on steering the car onto the right side of the road and blinked. A car was barreling toward them.

"Move!" he growled, using his legs to shove the driver into the passenger seat. He kicked the man's feet away from the brake. _Such small feet for a man!_

Without acceleration, his car rolled to a crawl. Trowa used the imaginary safety of that moment to yank out the driver's gun and pistol-whip him into unconsciousness across the temple. He could make out the year and model numbers of one of the cars. If he remained where he was, he was a sitting duck.

_Duck!_

He slouched in his seat as a line of bullets exploded through the passenger side window, tore across the space where his torso and head had been milliseconds earlier, and blasted out the front window. The driver moaned and slumped against the door. Trowa shifted into reverse and hit the gas. The car complained, huffing a black cloud of exhaust, and the tires squealed, agonizing over the change in direction, before finally reversing direction. As the car gained speed, propelling backwards down the pounded rock road, it rocked and bucked, perilously close to spinning out of control.

Trowa inched up, peering between the seats and out the back. He kept his car on the road, barely, the vehicle on his right, shot past, but a second coming up from the left veered around positioning for better shot. Wind whipped his bangs into his eyes. He shook them loose and felt the air sweep them over his head. Trowa adjusted his speed, leveled the driver's confiscated gun on the door edge where shards of broken glass wedged it tight, and lined up his shot. _Two moving vehicles, one wildly, one semi-automatic against hell-knows-what submachine gun, most likely—no sweat!_

The car drifted into range. He wondered then about what had become of the car coming directly at him, refocused, and squeezed the trigger. _Got it!_

He didn't see if his shot hit the target or not. A shriek of metal and smell of burning rubber combined with the sickening crunch of heavy machines pummeling into one another slammed his senses like a wall of horror. He registered a vehicle outfitted with a battering ram front grille locked onto the smashed body of what might have been the car from which the first shots had been fired roaring past. He smiled, thinking of how odd it was that someone was on his side. Then the tires were blasted flat under him and his car went out of control.

(o)

"Quatre!" Kalil came hurriedly in the room, "Quatre! Your friend the one we call Peridot had an accident. It's not--"

But Quatre didn't hear more. Voices erupted in his mind, screaming, "_It's all because of me! He must have been really tense. I shouldn't have left him! I shouldn't have let him go alone!_" Pictures scattered into his mind, one worse than the other, covered in gore and confusion. Quatre revived all the moments he had spent together with Trowa- the mornings, the nights, the meaningless bickering, but mostly the support he always gave.

"I must go to him," Quatre announced. "Where is he?"

"The hospital outside of town, but, Quatre, you can't. The ceremony starts in twenty minutes. Anyway, Kalil said that it's not so serious. It's just--" his sister started.

"You don't understand! He's my best friend!" Quatre said. "I love him!"

Qadira and Kalil took several minutes to register what he had said. Strangely, Quatre didn't feel scared, nor did he try to cover what he just said. It felt right! In that moment, he knew that he should have done it days, if not years, ago. However, he just regretted that he needed such inauspicious news to give him this courage.

"What?" his sister barked.

"I'm in love with Trowa. He has been my boyfriend for a year."

"You're a faggot!" Kalil said with disgust. "I can't believe that your mother gave up her life giving birth to a freak, a half-man!"

"Kalil, Qadira, please--" Quatre started.

"I don't know _what_ you are," his sister said dismissively, "but you're going to marry right now. I don't want you to play with our family's honor. Unlike you, I have my word to uphold!"

"I'm going to the hospital," Quatre said.

"You're not going anywhere!" Kalil shouted as he grabbed Quatre's arms.

But to what must have been his great surprise, Quatre slipped out of Kalil's hold effortlessly. At that moment he must have realized it was folly to try and fight an ex-Gundam pilot.

"Leave him alone!" Quatre heard a young lady's voice shout.

"Zaira!" Quatre uttered, shocked to see his youngest sister enter the room followed by two other sisters, Zaida and Lina.

"I won't let him leave," Qadira snorted. "This concerns my reputation, our family's!"

"I won't let you sacrifice our brother to please your so-called society," Zaida said firmly. "Today, when he needs our support, you're talking about _honor_. Didn't your _honor_ prick you when you didn't have the time to talk to your brother for years? Where was your _honor _when he needed your affection after the war? You're going to let go him go to his friend, because they need each other right now."

"How--?" Quatre asked, both surprised and bemused by the unexpected support.

Zaira stepped forward and dipped her head as a blush rose up her neck. "I, ah, saw a letter in your drawer and-- being the snoop that I am-- I read it and learned about you and Trowa. That boy really loves you."

It was Quatre's turn feel abashed. "That was my personal stuff."

"I know, but I could tell you were both unhappy about something and I saw him leave before the wedding, so I went to find out if there was anything I could do to help, and you weren't in your room and so I did some snooping and… Sorry."

"This is wasting time!" Qadira reminded them.

"I'm not finished saying what I have to say!" Zaira said. "See, I know from experience that it's very difficult to find a person who loves you that much these days-- boy or girl. You shouldn't let him go, Quatre! What saddens me is that you didn't tell me anything. How could you have thought that I wouldn't understand? I'm your little sis, silly boy! You always confided in me!"

Zaira's eyes shone with motherly love as she shook off Qadira's restraining arm. "Dear, Quatre, how could you think I don't care about your feelings? Is there anything more important to me than your happiness? And you thought that your joy would kill her?" she said gesturing to their eldest sister fuming nearby.

Quatre hugged his youngest sister and for the first time he smiled. It felt so nice to be accepted by some of his family. Lina begged for her turn then jumped into his arms and squeezed. He no longer had to hide his identity and live as a convict, maybe.

"Go and be with Trowa!" she whispered in his ear.

"I will, sister-mine, and but I have to go somewhere else first."

End chapter fifteen.


	49. It's Another Vacation Chapter 16

**DEFYING GRAVITY**

Part Three: It's Another Vacation

**Chapter Sixteen**

* * *

Quatre gulped as entered the courtyard and saw the _shamiana_ erected in the center of the rose garden for the ceremony. He knew he was going to do the right thing, but he also knew that it was going to be very difficult. On Quatre's arrival, Nada's brother, Aden, held out a glass of sweet _sharbet_ ready to exchange drinks, as a traditional part of the ceremony, but Quatre had no drink in his hand. 

"Quatre?" Aden said as soon as he saw him. "You are a little early, but that's-- What happened? Is everything all right?"

"Ah," Quatre began uncertainly.

As he entered the heavily decorated tent, drums and instruments revved up to announce his arrival, making it hard to hear anything else. Throngs of dressed up guests had gathered, ready for the wedding to begin. Those who had waited until the last minute could be seen running here and there. The sisters of the bride had been welcoming the guests by playfully hitting them with a stick wrapped in flowers, but now they stopped and turned to stare at the beautiful, blond man soon to be their brother-in-law.

"Is everybody okay?" Nada's parents asked, as they joined their son and soon to be son-in-law.

"Yes," Quatre managed to say, unable to meet their steady gazes. "I have to meet Nada. It's just for a few minutes."

"But the bridegroom isn't supposed to see the bride before the wedding; it's supposed to bring bad luck," another member of Nada's family said worriedly, "Is everything all right?"

"It's really urgent. I need to talk to Nada," Quatre pleaded.

"She is not arrived at the altar yet, as you can see. She is with the bridesmaids, preparing herself, however, since this is important…?" Aden paused.

"It is!" Quatre assured him.

"Well, then we can arrange for a veil. That way, you can talk but won't be able to see each other. Is that acceptable to you?" Aden suggested.

"Yes," Quatre said.

The joyous atmosphere, which had reigned when Quatre entered, disappeared. Most of the people grew quiet as they watched the groom and family-to-be wrought with tension and whispering. Quatre was the center of attention which he knew would soon turn ugly. The worst was yet to come. Feeling everyone's eyes on him, made Quatre even more uncomfortable as he followed Aden to the rooms set aside for Nada and her attendants to prepare. Nada sat with several other girls.

"Nada, draw you veil. Cover your face," Aden ordered.

"I want to talk to Nada in private, please," Quatre said quietly.

Aden and the girls left the room without much fuss and closed the door, leaving the two of them alone. Nada was sitting immobile on the bed, completely decked up as a bride in cherry red and a fine _ghunghat_ veil hiding her face, shoulders, back and almost down to her waist. Dust from the stars seemed to have fallen on her bridal attire and shone in the light. Delicately carved golden jewels and ornaments adorned every part of her body- anklets on her ankles, rings on her fingers, bangles on her wrists and several necklaces circled her neck. She was very beautiful.

He thought of Sally in her red veil and shoes. It seemed a lifetime ago that he arranged the wedding ceremony of his good friend Wufei. He had buried himself in work to avoid thinking about his own turmoil. Well, he couldn't hide from his heart's desire any longer.

"I really don't know how to say this," Quatre finally started after a few painful moments of silence. "Nada, I-I-- Nada, I can't marry you. I won't hide anything from you today, Nada. I'm gay and I love Trowa. We have been boyfriends for the past year. When I came here to train for work, I discovered that my sister was really weak. I thought that to save her life and to preserve my family's honor, and my place in the company, I had to accept the proposal of marriage. But today, I realized that I won't be able to live without Trowa. I'm the guilty party, Nada. I have cheated you. I don't even deserve to be forgiven. I know I have, perhaps knowingly, ruined your life. And I'm so sorry!"

Quatre's gaze fell to the floor as tears threatened to spill out. Quatre could no longer look at the Nada's immobile body. He could feel anguish rolling off her in waves. Perhaps, if she shouted and created a scene, the pain would have been less. He wondered if he would be able to forgive himself for having hurt this innocent girl. He lifted his eyes, expecting to see some kind of reaction but there was none. Then, two drops of water fell on her hands.

"Outside," he waved vaguely, "I'm going to tell everyone that we're not going to marry. I'm going to tell them that I… that I am at fault. And then I'm going to the hospital, where he's…been in an accident. And--" Quatre said slowly, but then stopped. He was about to say. "Forgive me, if possible," but he reconsidered, knowing he did not deserve forgiveness. "I'm just so sorry."

Quatre turned away, let himself out, and released a shaky sigh in the empty hall. He was grateful not to have to face her brother and the attendants before he collected his thoughts and prepared what he would say to everyone else. When he returned to the ceremonial tent, everybody was waiting for him. He avoided meeting their gaze, and approached the altar. He took a deep breath and started, "Ladies and gentlemen, I'm sorry to inform you that Nada and I aren't going to marry. This is all my doing; Nada is not to blame. Feel free to stay and… eat, but there will be no further celebration."

After a count of three heartbeats, the tent erupted into chaos. People jumped to their feet talking loudly amongst themselves and gesturing violently in his direction. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Aden making a beeline for the altar.

"Should I ask what joke this is?" Aden shouted, his face flaming with mounting anger. His name meant "fiery one", although "incendiary" better described how he looked to Quatre.

"It's not a joke, Aden--"

"How dare you?" he roared.

Aden grabbed Quatre's collar and whipped the smaller man around. Several men scrambled up to the altar and pinned Aden's arms, though, to stop further reckless activity. Quatre twisted around, tearing the collar of his fine jacket as he freed himself from Aden's grasp.

"Let me explain myself," Quatre said. "I love somebody else. I—"

"I don't care about you or your lover. You're going to stay here and marry Nada!" he said, choking back other words he wanted to say.

"Is there something wrong with our daughter? Forgive her if she made a mistake," Nada's father said as he approached Quatre.

"No, it's not--" he began, but when he overheard Nada's mother weeping with some other women, cursing the stars and the sins her daughter had committed to deserve this dishonor, he couldn't stand for that. He had to put a halt to any misconstructions before nasty rumors started circulating.

"No, no! You do not understand. It's _me_ who's wrong. I love someone else. There's nothing wrong with Nada. She deserves someone much better. I'm sorry. I never wanted this to happen. Forgive me, please. I must go now," Quatre said as he started towards the door.

A firm grip to his arm brought him up short. "You're not going anywhere," Aden said. "Just because you are rich and were once a Gundam pilot, doesn't mean you can walk out on our family, ignore your responsibilities, and break you promises!"

Quatre turned to explain, and met a fist to the face. He fell back into the wall, head spinning. He was sure that in a few minutes, an ugly bruise would appear. If his luck held he'd have a broken nose and chin. That would be special. He almost hoped for a broken jaw, that way he'd never have to justify himself again.

"Leave him alone!" a familiar voice said from behind them.

All action froze. Nada stood not far away. She had removed all her make-up and accessories. Her body looked bare without all those ornaments and jewels. For the first time, Quatre saw her without a smile. Her face showed signs of both exhaustion and fatigue, but no traces of tears or extreme grief.

"Brother, why did you strike him?" Nada asked her brother calmly.

"He's going to ditch you!"

"I agree that he was wrong to lead me on, to give me false hopes, but he eventually realized his mistake, didn't he? Just imagine if he had married me. I would have been his wife, but there would have been someone else in his heart. How long we would have been happy? One year? Two? Five? The marriage would not have lasted forever and three lives would have been destroyed- his, that of the one he loves, and mine. And why do you all believe that my life has been ruined by a canceled wedding? Is my fate only tied to that of my husband's? Why can't I live for my own fate? Is a woman weak without her spouse? Is it really absolutely necessary to bind me to someone with the chains of marriage?"

Everyone remained quiet as Nada let her emotions out. Quatre admired the courage compressed into her petite frame. She was standing up to everyone.

"You can go, Quatre. I don't blame you. I blame our families for pushing this upon us, too fast. I wanted to go to college first, but... We were never meant for each other, but I'm glad to have met you." She stepped closer to him. "The circumstances could have been much better, but never mind that. Now go! Someone is waiting for you. Only lucky ones find their love and the luckiest ones never lose it!"

"Thanks," Quatre whispered as he hugged her.

"You can thank me later by inviting me to stay with you and your friend Earthside, where I can start over."

"You have my word," he said, "as a friend. And I know Zaira would travel with you, but if not, I'll come get you. I have a friend who can pilot us anywhere." They shared gentle, but teary smiles, and then he took off to find out what had happened to Trowa.

(o)

Heero scanned the slight but well-built and nearly naked young man standing with his hands on his hips. His eyes lit on the chastity belt obscuring the boy's sex, avoiding the burning intensity of his eyes.

"Just give me the fucking keys!" Duo insisted. "I was insane to let you lock me up in this fuckin' piece of shit again!"

Heero smiled and shook his head. "No. My pleasure." He would be the one to unlock his lover's sex, the only one.

"'Ro, I can do that," said Duo. Heero batted away his fingers, causing Duo to let out a sulky huff. "Fine. Do it your way then. Just get the frigging cage off."

He cut Heero dead with a look from eyes the color of the sea outside their door. At least Heero imagined that was what the sea must be like at the time, deep shimmering blue blending into the purple horizon.

"No, no," Heero laughed. "It's a service I'll happily perform for my stud boyfriend who has endured so much to please me, again."

He went to the bathroom and came back with a small basin filled with hot soapy water and a cloth. Heero carefully removed the cock cage by tugging it lovingly away off the twin posts and set it in the basin. Duo shivered. He then carefully removed the belt and chains and dropped them in the basin as well.

Duo moaned and lowered his eyelashes as he smoothed a hand over his chestnut-brown braid. "Thank you, thank you, thank you," was all he said.

Heero smiled, rinsed off all the pieces, and set them safely aside to dry before turning all his attention on his lover. With the warm cloth, he laved the now released cock of his friend and then his balls. Duo moaned again. His prick started to grow.

"I don't see any sore spots. How do you feel?"

"Like I need to get off really bad," Duo said, punctuating the end with a groan as Heero massaged oil into his tender skin. "Do not stop."

"Not until you are comfortable." Heero continued his ministrations a few minutes later then retreated again to the bathroom to wash his hands.

(o)

"I'm going to miss this ceiling," Duo whispered. "I've seen a lot of it this vacation."

Heero stood by the bed satiated fully and watched Duo, reclining on the bed, head pointing at the foot end and his legs bent and resting on the headboard. "I should move a bit." His long legs flipped backwards, somersaulting him over the end of the bed. He rose and stretched; a sight not just for the sore-eyed, but for the blind. "That's better. With that _thing,_ I'm afraid to move to much and maybe slice myself in half, or worse."

"What could be worse?" Heero asked, amused by Duo's parading and preening, just for him.

"It could cut off my balls! Haven't you noticed how it cups me with metal?"

"I've noticed _you_."

Duo smiled and started to respond, when there was a light knock on the door. "Hold on!"

Heero wondered what Duo had planned, but waited and watched as Duo struggled into a pair of skin-tight jeans and answered the door.

"Thanks, man," Duo said and came away carrying a tray covered in steaming bowls of white rice and something else hidden beneath covered plates. "Your favorite!"

Heero had no idea what his favorite was, but he was suddenly hungry as hell. For drink, food, and another round of sex. "Thank you," he said, straight-faced.

The steam coming off the bowls could not complete with the steam the two lovers created on the windows that evening.

(o)

"Nurse, can you tell me where Trowa Barton is? He's a foreigner. Tall, sandy, light-brown hair--?" Quatre asked, the description coming out rapid-fire. He panted as he tried to regain his breath.

The nurse appeared shocked at his sudden appearance. He had forgotten about his blossoming bruise and blood oozing from the split across his cheek, but she couldn't ignore it. His state of dishevelment weighed on her mind as she answered his question.

"Room 213. Turn left and it's the third door. You should get that looked at, young man!" she called out to his retreating back.

Quatre dashed haphazardly to avoid other people walking the hall until he found room 213. The door stood ajar, so Quatre nudged it open and peeked inside. He found, to his instant relief, Trowa sitting up in bed, head bound, arm in a sling, chatting with a roomful of other agents perched on chairs and the window sill. Quatre rested against the doorway, thankful that Trowa's injuries didn't appear serious. When Trowa looked his way, Quatre noticed then that his eyes were puffy and red. Their eyes locked. Both young men tuned out the others and regarded each other a moment, drinking in the sight.

"Quatre, what are you doing here? And you're hurt! Aren't you supposed to be at the wedding?" Trowa asked, staring incredulously at him.

"Oh, that's how you welcome me?" Quatre laughed. He fought hysterics and knew his voice must have sounded artificial.

In two quick strides, he arrived at his bedside, and without asking permission, sat next to Trowa on the bed. "Oh, Trowa," escaped his lips and without answering any questions, Quatre hugged him. He really missed having Trowa in his arms, and when Trowa's good arm encircled his shoulders, all his tension evaporated. He felt as if everything would be fine. They stayed like that for a moment.

"Okay, I think it's okay, now," Trowa said under his breath, chuckling. "You don't want to make these guys too uncomfortable, do you?" Quatre felt Trowa separate from him slightly as he said a bit louder, "And I want to know what happened! And then you have to take care of that. It's one damn ugly cut."

"Oh! Excuse my poor manners, please." Quatre smiled weakly at the other men in the room, regained his composure and moved over to chair next to the bed.

Edwards nudged Williams and they gathered the other two agents, excusing themselves. "Uh, that's okay, uh, Quatre. Trowa can tell you about what happened. We're going to go get something to eat. And, don't worry, Trowa, we'll handle the report to Commander Une. You guys try and have a good vacation, what's left of it."

"Thanks," both Trowa and Quatre said at the same time, they all chuckled uncomfortably, and the agents left the pair in peace.

End chapter sixteen.


	50. It's Another Vacation Chapter 17

**DEFYING GRAVITY**

Part Three: It's Another Vacation

**Chapter Seventeen**

* * *

"You first," Quatre demanded. 

Trowa gave a brief rundown of his harrowing experiences. "Lucky for me, our agents came equipped for action or it would have turned out differently."

"You might have been captured, but by whom and why?"

"Bunch of dudes out of New Germany."

Quatre watched him shrug off the details.

"Not my case."

_Or of any fucking interest right now, _Quatre mentally filled in for him

"Your turn, Quatre." Trowa's soft voice lowered another few notches, loaded with leashed-in emotion. "Why are you here?"

"You know I'll want a more complete story later. I'm just letting you off this time because you're injured," Quatre said sternly.

""You don't scare me," Trowa chuckled softly. His demeanor remained cautious, which was better than Quatre thought he deserved. "Quatre, you are avoiding my question. Why have you come? If it's just to check on my condition, then you've done your duty and, well, you should go back now."

_Go back? No!_ Quatre had to say what he had come to say, and delay it no longer. "I came because I need you so much I'll just wither up and die if you go," Quatre admitted.

"But I can't stay, Quatre. I have to—"

"I called off the wedding! I told Nada and my sisters about you. And…and…they don't all hate me. My youngest sister found the letter you left."

"Damn it, the letter," Trowa said. "I should have hid it better, or emailed you."

"I'm glad you didn't! It really helped me, you know?" Quatre said happily, "And it supported me because she could tell how sincere you were. I told them all that I loved you with all my heart, and once I did, the pain in my heart lifted. I could see my future brighten significantly; that is, if you weren't injured seriously and could find it in your heart to forgive me."

Trowa guarded his expression and emotions tightly. "And Nada. What about Nada?"

Quatre looked at his hands, fingering where the engagement ring no longer shown. "She understood, and I think she's happy to have avoided a bad match."

Trowa moved slowly, and got up from the bed.

"Trowa? Let me help you."

"I can do this fine, Quatre," the young man said kindly. Trowa sank to the floor, pushing Quatre gently back onto his hospital bed, and kneeling at Quatre's feet.

"Trowa?" Quatre looked at him in wonder.

Trowa's long fingers delicately touched the fine, straw-blond hair, avoiding the bruise spreading from Quatre's cheek into his hairline. "Your poor, beautiful face."

"It's…nothing. Trowa--"

"You love me?" Trowa asked. "You gave up…everything to come here and tell me that?"

"Yes."

"That was quite a risk."

"For a chance at happiness? I don't think so." Quatre shook his head. "You took the same risk coming to L4. Even if you can never love me the same way again, I had to try, didn't I? I almost made a terrible mistake; well, I mean I did hurting you, but I almost made a fatal one and a monumental one."

Trowa studied his face without a word. He was the consummate symbol of long-suffering patience, and yet, Quatre found something wonderful there, too. It stripped him of all his fears and gave him the courage to tell Trowa the rest.

"I tried to shoot myself with Duo's gun after you left. Duo stopped me; although, I'd flubbed it up anyway. Not since the Zero incident had I felt so out of control! Everything I did after that time seems so…"

"Surreal?"

"Yes. It was as if I was trapped in somebody else's tragic life and there was nothing I could do to get out."

"But you weren't. It was up to you all the way," Trowa told him gently.

"I know. I realize all that now. I learned a lot about myself and how I've been avoiding making the important decisions in my life. Oh, Trowa, what kind of terrible person am I? It took you getting injured and the horror of possibly losing you to shock me to the core… and _then _I figured it all out! You were unwilling to fight for me and I sensed that, confusing it with some kind of fear of commitment and my own mixed up feelings. That damned empathic ability of mine got all out of whack, but still, I should have known. I should have known how selfless you can be! I owed it to you to let you know how much your coming here meant, how much your support has meant to me, how much you mean to me, how deeply sorry I am for hurting you, even if I've lost your friendship… even if it's all too late."

"It's not too late. It'd never be too late, Quatre. Not for you."

"Thank…you," Quatre whispered into his ear. He rested his hands on Trowa shoulders and leaned over, resting his forehead on top of his gold-brown head. "Thank you."

"Quatre."

Trowa's voice could be so tender at times, Quatre thought. He soaked up that tenderness, marinating it, never wanting the moment to end while letting his insides turn to mush. But Trowa moved. He turned up his chin, dislodging Quatre's resting place.

"I have thought of doing this since… for awhile. When I came here, I thought of doing this here, in your homeland. But with all the complications—"

Trowa paused and gazed into Quatre's eyes. Quatre let him explore his azure depths, and gather the strength to continue with what he feared would be the compassionate let down. His fears heightened when Trowa broke contact and looked down. Quatre looked away, too, but caught the sound of rustling and traced the sound to Trowa hand. Trowa removed a little box from his pocket and opened it. Quatre sucked in his breath with an audible gasp. A small golden ring twinkled in the sunlight escaping the edges of the drawn shades and shining into the previously gloomy hospital room.

Trowa patted his pocket, which crinkled with the sound of a paper. "You still want to make that commitment we once dreamed about?"

Quatre knew that he would never forget the moment. Trowa was kneeling in front of him. And looking at him were those green eyes that held so much love and sincerity. Warm butterflies swarmed in his stomach and started fluttering. Eager and enthusiastic tears leaked from Quatre's eyes and washed his bruised face. Everything was working, but his mouth. Or his breathing. He couldn't draw the air to breathe much less to speak.

"It all comes down to what you want, Quatre. I mean, what you _really_ want to do."

"I… I—"

"Breathe first or you'll pass out."

Quatre didn't dare close his eyes and make the magical moment disappear on him, but he obeyed Trowa and gulped three long, deep breaths.

"Now," Trowa urged him.

"I want to run an antique store in Sanc," Quatre blurted out. He jumped to his feet, lifting Trowa with him. "And marry you," he added with a dreamy smile. "Yes, marry the man I love and make a new start." Then he kissed him.

(o)

"THAT is what you want to do, really? No shit?" Duo asked his buddy. He waved to Heero and pointed to the phone. "Take away everything, all those responsibilities, real or imagined, and everybody else's expectations, and THAT is what you would love to do?"

"I knew you would laugh, too. I swear, Duo, Trowa thought I had gone off the deep end. You know, that I'd broken under pressure."

"Okay, I really needed a good laugh, Trowa, too, I guess, huh? But you're serious. You guys are okay, right?"

"Yes, Duo, and he's all for it now! You remember after Wufei's wedding? The party? When we were on the beach talking about that aborted mission where Heero and I were posing as two antique shop owners?"

"The fucking screw up?"

"Yes, that…one. Well, that had been my idea, that ruse."

"No--!"

"Not the mission! Damn you, Duo! How could you think that?! No, I'm referring to Heero and me playing the roles of antique store dealers! I think I knew way back then I wanted to run a shop, but I was too inexperienced, I think."

"Then … wow… cool, Quat. Here's 'Ro. You tell'im. He wouldn't believe me."

Quatre listened as Duo made the quick handoff to Heero. "Winner? You and Barton okay?"

"Yeah. Trowa's a little banged up, but he can walk and talk. We're getting married!"

"Actually, it isn't called marriage between too people of the same sex."

Quatre's sigh could be heard across the miles of satellite connection static. "Thank you, Heero. We're landing in a few minutes, together, and I'm going to run an antique shop."

"An antique… that can't be right. I think I've got a bad connection."

"No, you heard me right! No corporate world for me. But, also, I wanted you to know that that man you saw in the parking lot, the one with the little feet, he was arrested, along with a host of accomplices that tried to kidnap Trowa."

"Une called, but I will want to hear Trowa's story."

"Trowa is...busy. He can't talk. Oh...yes..."

"Call when your feet are back Earthside, Winner. Winner? Are you getting enough air?"

Duo grabbed back the phone, his voice breathless with excitement. "'Ro and I are makin' it official, too, ya know. So, I got me this crazy idea—"

o)

"Are you sitting down?" Milliardo asked his longtime associate, Commander Une.

"Proceed." He could hear her tension exhaust with a sigh that even the shaky connection couldn't cover.

"Treize Khushrenada did not die, or, to put it another way, he's been resurrected." He waited her out a few seconds. "Are you still on the line?"

"Yes. That… was an extraordinary shock, Milliardo. Wufei Chang saw him die."

"Or was that an act? I had an interesting phone discussion with Trowa Barton, while he was recuperating in the hospital. You know, he worked in the circus."

"Yes, of course. I know everything about the ex-Gundam pilots."

"He explained how explosions are used by magicians to distract the audience from what's actually going on. Without revealing too many trade secrets, he described a scenario where the man could have blown up his craft and still survived. Yuy did, and he had been in his exploding Gundam, so we know it is possible. Then, there is the resurrection theory."

"Go on."

"What if someone is continuing the work of the doctors? Take Yuy's miraculous healing abilities, kick it up a few notches and you get the dead returning to life."

"You have proof of any of this?"

"I have spoken to the man on the phone, and, yes, I have had the voice analyzed and it was Treize Khushrenada's voice. I'll get to what he told me in a moment, but first I wanted to summarize what we have learned."

"Then do so."

"I know the break-ins, the calls, even the kidnapping attempt on Agent Barton, were all carried out in order to get to me. Mr. Spitze, who was arrested in the attack on Trowa, has been very talkative. He claims that another of Khushrenada's men, a Mr. Sieger, shot some pictures in Marrakech. Now, I knew Sieger as master of the group of boys which included Dierk. One of the photos was of me, and Spitze claims Khushrenada saw and identified _Wind_ as me, by name. Another of Sieger's snapshots captured Agent Maxwell as _Scythe_ being hauled off by one of the Maguanacs, although I don't know yet how Sieger was able to link the Arab man with the Winner Corporation, but they did. He was also able to locate the shuttle pilot who transported _Scythe_ and Gunter off-planet. And, no, no one at Preventers bothered to follow up with the pilot and extract that information. Had we known Sieger was on the trail of Gunter weeks ago, Preventers could have prevented this and captured Sieger. I thought all the masters at the convention had been arrested!"

"That one got away," Une said. "What else?"

"Gunter's home, which was unsecured, leaving evidence left uncollected by the police or Preventers, led Treize's men to the house we lived in, again unsecured. All the surveillance equipment was still in place, did you know that? Hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of sensitive equipment left by the local agency! A five year old with a laptop wouldn't have had any trouble locating our private cell numbers, and from there, vacation plans, and whatever else they needed to track us down."

"An investigation is still underway, Milliardo." Commander Une was silent for a moment. He could hear the shuffling of papers he guessed to be Une searching for information to disclose. "Spitze was a bodyguard for one of the sellers who had been in the bathroom, sick, but in the uproar, escaped the Preventer's net. The report here says that he figured out how to get to Duo and Heero via the news articles. Winner's name was somehow attached to one of those."

"Don't tell me, one from New Germany?"

"Yes. There will be follow up."

"What disturbs me the most were the conversations Lucrezia had and didn't tell me about. She said the one of the calls was a questionnaire, which explains the lengthier call, but she had several others which have been traced to the same New Germany area."

"And you talked to Treize?"

"Yes, he called me directly and asked specifically for me. They had gotten to the Barton boy and I didn't want to know who was next so I took the call."

"So, what did he want?" For the first time, she sounded unsure of herself.

"Well, you'll be glad to know he asked about Mariemaia, and you."

"What did he _want_, Director Peacecraft," Lady Une bit off angrily. She had adopted Khushrenada's illegitimate daughter after his death and was terribly protective of her.

"A return to power, I suppose you could say."

(o)

Heero embraced Duo. "He's not going to spoil our day. The man was caught and in custody."

"I know, I mean, I really _know_. I _remember."_

"Quatre and Trowa ought to be driving up any minute now." Heero had plenty of ready-made reassurances to hand out.

"Heero, I'm really happy, just too nervous to look it."

When Duo hugged him back, Heero said, "Good, because in a few minutes we're going to get as close to married as we can, eat some horrid food prepared lovingly by our friends, and drink lots of wine. Then after they've gone we're going to make love and sleep together in each other's arms. And if that isn't the most awful sentimentality, I don't know what is."

Duo gave Heero a tear-washed grin. "What a sap you've become, 'Ro."

Heero smiled and shook his head. "Well—"

"Hey, look! Here come Quatre and Trowa now."

The two young men sprinted along the boardwalk to the sand and from there strolled hand-in-hand to join their friends. Trowa couldn't keep a smile from reemerging on his face each time he wiped it blank, which Heero thought was a wonder he was glad to have lived to see. Quatre, on the other hand, appeared about to bolt off he was so jumpy-- happy, too, but even more nervous than Duo.

"To be honest I was so nervous getting my clothes changed inside that I nearly begged a bottle of anti-anxiety tablets from Sally and lion tranquilizers from Trowa!" Quatre exaggerated. "Duo looks absolutely beautiful, don't you think?"

"Yes, so do you," Heero said, causing Quatre to blush furiously.

"I didn't have a chance to block the punch," Quatre said explaining his bandaged face.

"Just beautiful," Heero repeated, but his eyes were tracking Duo. With his bright violet eyes, long hair which shone in the sunshine, and a bewitching smile, Heero was pleased Duo was to be his partner. Duo had brushed his hair till it gleamed and left it loose, because Heero asked him to.

"I quite fancy Duo this afternoon," said Trowa. Heero caught his teasing glance and decided he deserved it after embarrassing Quatre.

"So do I," Quatre agreed.

"Incest," hissed Wufei.

"It's all right between friends," Trowa assured him.

"It wasn't then and it isn't in this case," Wufei said firmly. "They are family. Maxwell and Yuy are more like brothers to us than anything else, to you especially."

"Aw, you're so sweet," Duo drawled then kissed Wufei on the lips, causing a minor uproar only Heero, Sally, and a lot of laughter could resolve.

No accidents occurred on the journey to the end of the sandy walk to the altar. There were no tempests, no ninja attacks, no cars screeching through the parking lot with guns firing, no boats foundering on a hidden rock requiring rescue, and Sally wasn't sick. Only the crash of waves on the shore and bird cries disturbed the solemn occasion.

Duo looked into Heero's eyes when he made his vows and Heero could barely stop himself from kissing him before being given permission by Milliardo, who was once again officiating at the proceedings. They signed the form and were legally a pair.

"Next up?"

Quatre led Trowa for their joining at the altar. They exchanged similar vows and kissed. They took turns signing the form they had picked up on the way from the shuttle, one they had filed for months ago before the 'mission from hell.' And then their bonding was final.

(o)

Once again, the five ex-Gundam pilots partied on the beach with their other friends and colleagues. Wufei kept an eye on Lucrezia Noin throughout the back-to-back ceremonies. To his relief, she limited herself to heavy sighs and a rolling of eyes. If Noin wasn't particularly pleased with her husband's role uniting the four boys, however, she didn't show it as they joined the party afterwards.

"This is getting to be habit forming," Relena remarked.

"I haven't been to so many beach parties in…well… ever," Hilde said laughing.

"What will we do now? We've run out of marriageable pilots," Dorothy said.

"They are rather greedy aren't they?" Hilde asked. "Pairing up that way, not spreading themselves around us girls."

Heero riveted his gaze on Hilde, remembering that he'd never pressed Duo to tell him about his possible past dalliances with women. _She must still have a crush on him,_ he decided.

"Well, don't blame us. You and Dorothy are in relationships. You ought to marry next. That's two more parties," Quatre pointed out. "Three if Relena ever kisses that poor neglected boyfriend of hers."

"I do kiss him! OH! You evil, evil man! Quatre, I was keeping that all hush-hush."

Duo sidled closer and whispered conspiratorially, "Your secrets are worth nothing to us. Or are they? How much can we get for them on E-Bay?"

"Heee-ro, can't you fix him to make him nicer?" Relena cried.

Wufei's brows had drawn into a frown as he watched his pretty wife and Hilde whisper and smile. It was the smile that bothered him. It meant trouble. For him, usually. He decided to curtail their fun. "Woman?"

"Rashid has the sound system nearly ready. Then there'll be dancing!"

Wufei's jaw dropped. "What?" he croaked.

"As I heard it, you can dance. Something about clubbing in new Germany?" Sally smiled.

"That was with… that was work!" he sputtered.

"Or, you could tell us how that first undercover mission ended," Hilde said with more cunning than he had observed in the girl before.

"You fell asleep. You wouldn't understand."

"Sally filled me in. Sounded hysterical."

"You did leave off rather suddenly," Relena said, "leaving the story hanging that way."

Wufei stared off into the distance, possibly hoping an escape route would appear. "Some of us had had succumbed to the alcohol. Really, the mood was _all_ wrong."

"I think everyone understands the strained relations driving your friends apart after our wedding, and that you wanted," Sally smiled, "some time alone with me."

Wufei straightened his shoulders and cleared his throat. "Yes! Well, if closure is what you want then fine." He sighed and closed his eyes. "I'll just give you the highlights. You see, I wanted some backup. I guess that was my reason to collect the girl, Shirley, ah…Trowa. I told her I was really there to catch the smuggler in a scheme and arrest him."

"And I was game. Smuggler, _smugglee_—didn't matter at that point if my whole scheme was shot to hell. I decided I might as well help out some other poor schmuck cop," Trowa chuckled and rubbed a hand over his face. "You were so goddamned tight. You wouldn't even give me your codename."

Wufei frowned. "I was going down with the ship, but I was taking Garrett the pirate down with me. All I could save was my good name."

"L5 is a name?" Hilde asked.

"When attached to me, yes!" he snorted then quickly shook his head and smiled. "It wasn't far to get from L5 to Chang Wufei, not back then."

"Heh, heh," Duo started to laugh. "You shoulda seen their faces when they nearly broke down my door and found Rei and Terry—"

"Just _barely_ Terry," Quatre reminded them. "I was loaded out of my skull and sick as a dog, but I did walk in and stand, didn't I Heero?"

"You leaned—"

"_Listed,_" Trowa corrected as he leaned heavily to one side, resting most of his weight onto Quatre's back and shoulders as an example.

"At that moment I was certain your drug deal was coming down and I decided that I'd arrest you for that, too." Wufei glanced at Quatre and then Heero. "Naturally, Terry and Rei were surprised to see me."

"Man, I thought you were gonna use Shirley as some kinda shield and start blasting away. 'Course you had no gun so that made you look—"

"Ridiculous!" Wufei said. "No need to mince words now, Maxwell. I felt like a fool. I was unprepared, unprofessional."

"Covered in vomit…" Trowa added, eyes gleaming.

"Barton, I wouldn't have been if you'd have let me take them down as I had outlined to you!"

"I thought Heero was pulling a gun on me, so I grabbed the nearest person—"

"Me, you dolt," Quatre laughed. "You lined me up to take Wufei's kick. I have never needed to be reminded to stay out of Wufei's roundhouse kicks again, have I?"

"No, you learn fast." Trowa rubbed his hands up and down Quatre's arms and squeezed. "As soon as I had you in my arms, I knew who you were."

"And how was that? I always wanted to know," Dorothy asked, speaking for the first time in a long while.

She'd been quieted by the earlier suggestion that she get married. Her boyfriend, Agent Edwards, who had been given the day's leave from Preventers to attend the event, had smiled provocatively her way. He had heard the remark, and she wondered what that expression had meant. Was he seriously considering marriage? Her contemplations keep her mind occupied though most of the conversation since.

"His aftershave." Trowa nuzzled his life-partner. "Real giveaway, that and I'd imagined him in my arms for long enough that I had committed to memory his every protruding bone."

"Trowa!" Both Relena and Quatre squawked, disharmoniously.

"What dirty minds you have!" Trowa said, laughing. "You were thinner then, less muscular. I was meaning your shoulder blades." Trowa's voice took on a seductive tone and he purred into Quatre's ear, "You've bulked up nicely with all our workouts."

"God, don't you two get going now that Duo's quiet," Hilde groaned. "So Wufei, did you arrest anyone?"

Duo barked a laugh. "I did! I had recorded them all making me offers. Wufei was in shock after Quatre exploded over him, so I cuffed him to the door."

Heero chuckled. "You got away with that because Trowa was ripping off his blouse and Wufei couldn't keep his eyes off him."

"You are casting aspersions! Trowa was breaking cover!" Wufei squeaked.

"Heero was not paying attention to me either," Duo said. "So I cuffed him to the bed. Little did I know I'd be doing that again, under drastically different conditions."

Heero paled, the blood draining from his face, and then returning in a sudden flash-flood flush. Trowa was about to make a joke to cover for his friend's obvious embarrassment, but Duo was talking louder.

"Or try, but I don't figure I'll get the chance, right 'Ro?" He ran his arms around Heero's neck and pulled him into a kiss, which Heero returned with growing passion.

"I think you'll get what ever you're asking him for, Duo," Quatre said, jokingly.

"Lucky guy," Hilde said.

Heero's attention shifted to Hilde again. He parted lips and leveled his piercing gaze onto her from over Duo's shoulder. "Yes, I am."

"Yeah, well I meant Duo; that is, if you can give him everything he wants, he's one lucky guy."

"I can."

"Then, great."

But Heero didn't think she meant that she felt it was great. She taught Duo to cook; she had once loved Duo. Had she loved him enough to try and produce his child? Did it matter? Duo was his, now. Not Hilde, not Milliardo-- his. He should let the past stay in the past, he knew, but it niggled at the back of his mind. He muttered to Duo, "Be right back," and stepped around him to approach Hilde. "Come with me," he ordered, but not in an unkind way.

"Because it's your big day, sure, Heero," Hilde said.

(o)

While Heero walked Hilde down a stretch of beach, Wufei summarized the ending to the disastrous undercover story.

"Maxwell and I attempted to arrest one another, Barton was stripping—"

"Out of the costume!" Trowa was quick to add. "The wig, my shirt and jacket to prove I was the guy said I was."

"And Winner, lost his wig. Mine, Yuy's fell by the wayside."

"Duo's too?" Relena asked.

"Not right away," Wufei answered.

"Hey, I looked damned cool in dreds. I was getting' all kinds of looks, couple promising offers."

"No you weren't," Dorothy said. "The girls were terrified by you and I know you weren't looking for male attention back then."

"Okay, okay," Duo grinned. "I liked the look, that's all. I'll bet some dude will make a movie dressed that way and make a mint. Oh, well, not me. Eventually I popped the tooth and lost the wig."

"Did you keep the wig?" Quatre asked.

"He lost it."

"What Barton means is that Maxwell lost it out the airplane before takeoff." Wufei and Duo exchanged knowing looks. "I was proud to have rid the world of the nasty hairball."

"Cost you nearly a week's wages, paying Preventers back for all our costumes you destroyed," Duo reminded him.

"Well worth it."

(o)

"What is it, Heero? I know you'd rather be fondling your honey than chatting me up."

"Did you and Duo ever sleep together?"

"You are direct, aren't you? Not 'how many times?' Why not ask him? Oh, yeah, memory problems, eh? Well, maybe I'm not one talk behind his back. Maybe I got my pride."

"Hilde, please. Just…tell me."

"You sound desperate to know. Okay, but you're not gonna like the answer—yeah, we did. I wanted him and he wanted—" but Hilde wouldn't tell. "He will have to tell you that. Besides, it's too late. He's made his choice as to how he wants to live. Just, take care of him, Heero. He's really very…fragile beneath that tough street rat persona he takes on."

"I know," Heero said then turned them back. "I just wanted to know…more."

"He wasn't very… He was hard to get worked up, if you get what I mean. If that helps."

"You mean he wasn't aware he was gay, but he wasn't driven to have sex with you?"

"Man, you are a cold sonofabitch. Well, yeah, pretty much. I didn't try to read too much into it at the time. You know, some guys are all over-sexed and others not. I just figured he was one of the nice guys that wasn't too demanding."

"He's very passionate with me," Heero stated as fact without attaching to the meaning an emotional element, like pride. He was busy thinking about Duo and how he must have been aware of his sexual failure. Duo had lied about his experience, in fact. Heero felt hurt by that, but realized that Duo must have had been fighting with himself a long time, denying his homosexuality. He forgave Duo any transgressions instantly. Heero was glad Duo chose him, and vowed to make sure Duo never had to doubt himself and his choices again.

Hilde stopped him with a hand to his arm. "Heero, that's wonderful—for both of you. Really. I mean it. Duo and I weren't right for each other, but you are. I can see it in his eyes. He's so, oh, I don't know… complete around you, and so at ease. Like he doesn't have to act anymore. Does that make sense?"

Heero smiled. "Yes, thanks. He satisfies me. Without him, I'd be an empty man."

"Ha! Then I'd better get you back to him quick!"

Hilde and Heero returned to their group of friends, smiling. When Duo met his eyes, his little worry lines disappeared. It was nice to feel whole again.

The music soared over the roar of the ocean and couples sorted themselves out on the boardwalks for dancing. Not the married couples. They had had their share of dancing and now they wanted a private moment.

Both couples escaped out of the back way. They hadn't planned on a honeymoon anywhere in particular so they made do in the marital bed, which had seen so many celebrations of their love. It saw an extra special one that night and both couples made good use of it.

(A veil draws over the actual proceedings which are private, personal and very, very enjoyable.)

**End chapter seventeen.**

**End Part Three: It's Another Vacation**

**Thank y'all for the lovely support, feedback, and especially for reading to the end again, and for those of you who aren't sick and tired of seeing DG uploads I hope you join me for the next part.--KS **

**DEFYING GRAVITY — TBC in Part Four**


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